Untitled
by 0anon
Summary: I have a plan.
1. Intro

I have a plan.

You don't know it, but I have a plan.

Tell you?

Oh _no_. No no, that would ruin all the _fun_. It's a secret. A surprise.

A game!

Come out to play, come out to _play_!

Introduce a little _anarchy_ into your life.

I have a plan. You're going to play.

I _insist_.

The rules?

No. You're thinking like _them_. _They_ like rules.

The game is _timing_. The timing rules everything, and when I play my little joke, you'll know how to play along. No rules.

You'll _know_.

And that's the point. 

But why so _serious_?

* * *

Overcoat, single-breasted, purple lined with orange silk, four buttons, three outer pockets, _several_ inner pockets, five buttons per sleeve.

Coat, blue-grey lined with orange silk, two buttons, three outer pockets.

Pants, purple pinstripe, pockets front and back.

Vest, forest green suede front, purple-grey back, four buttons, two pockets.

Shirt, hexagon patterned purple, seven buttons, one pocket. Patterns within patterns.

Tie, purple and green diamond.

Suspenders, green and white diamond, elastic, nickel fittings, leather ends, 35 mm wide.

Socks, multicolored argyle.

Shoes, brown suede, custom.

Gloves, driving, purple leather, cashmere lined.

Watch chain, extra long.

I'm a man of simple tastes.

* * *

A _name_.

Names are important.

You see—a name like The Gamester or The Gambler doesn't have the same _effect_.

The Riddler, The Questioner, The Anarchist, The Puzzler.

Nope.

The Scarecrow, The Inquisitioner, The Watcher, The Weirdo.

You see?

The Knave, The Knight, The Jack, The Fright.

The Dark, The Sight, The Fear, The Blight.

None of these names sounds _correct_.

If you want to send a message you have to make a game; the game is in the timing and the rhyming and a _name_.

A playing card, a trader's _mark_; a call to start, shot in broad daylight.

* * *

I have no backstory.

I'm a shot in the dark.

People—they don't know what to do. They try to demonize me. They try to _humanize_ me. Explain the _reason_ why I _am_. Use their charts to find a box, a _classification_.

A _name_.

It's easier when they think I'm _insane_.

But I'm not a monster.

I'm _not_.

People—when they face something they _fear_, they call them _monsters_.

The joke—_words_ are mirrors. Recognize your _reflection_. Stare into the _abyss_ and the abyss stares into _you_.

I don't have a backstory because I don't _need_ one:

_You'll_ write it.

* * *

I have a joke—listen to this:

Joe asks his math teacher, "What's math good for?"

The teacher asks Joe, "Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?"

Joe's confused. He says, "No."

Teacher takes Joe and they drive down to see the Grand Canyon. He asks, "So, Joe, what's the Grand Canyon good for?"

Joe doesn't know.

"Then I'll show you."

The teacher takes out a chainsaw, hacks off Joe's arms and legs and throws them down the canyon.

And tells Joe while his screams echo for miles of silence, "_That's_ what it's good for!"

But why so _serious_?

* * *

People—they don't _notice_ things.

You have to send a _loud_ message if you want their attention.

The _message_ is in the _medium_:

Every city is a little system, a tiny world of its own. Inside the system are more systems: Police. The Mob. Government. Banks.

They have their _order_, their way of doing things. They have _connections_.

The secret of _timing_ is to find those little spots that spin everything out of _control_.

I'm here to show you how.

The secret is _expectation_, and what happens when the _rules_ people expect are _gone_:

It _feels_ like chaos, but it's a new _order_.

* * *

I love this city.

I _love_ it.

It's _chosen_.

You're _chosen_.

Invited!

Come out to play, come out to _play_.

There's no other place in the _world_ that could produce two freaks so _perfectly_ matched for each other. No other system in the _universe_ could make _us_ who we _are_.

Without Gotham, we're _nothing_. We owe _everything_ to her, the sick bitch of a she-wolf nursing us on her teats.

Set loose on the city hungry, mad dogs.

We _owe_ her our _souls_.

He: immovable.

I: unstoppable.

We are _destined_.

Like all good sons, we'll try to do her _justice_.


	2. Bank job

How many people does it take to rob a bank?

No. No no, that's the wrong question.

Think like _me_.

Think about _timing_.

How much time for the Mob to come knocking on my door. How much time before the police stop watching the sideshow and turn the searchlights on _themselves_.

How much time for the tailor to make my new suit.

How much time before _he_ gets into the game and changes _everything_. How much time before he _completes_ us and sets it in motion.

How much time for this city to eat itself to stay _alive_.

Answer:

Six.

* * *

I have a plan. But I _don't_.

You think I'm insane. But I'm _not_.

He thinks they'll save him. But they _won't_.

You think it's chaos. And it _is_.

Killing is a _choice_. And a game.

The point is the joke. Not the _punch. line._

People are _predictable_. But they're not.

That's why it's so much _fun_. That's the _thrill_.

Ever watched two people playing the same game?

They're playing Parcheesi when one pulls out a carving knife and slices his face off.

You ask a reason. You ask a _rhyme_.

Here's one:

Three blind mice. _See_ how they _run_.

* * *

It's all in the _timing_.

timing timing timing timing timing

_You_ play by the rules. The rules say to play your cards right—close to the chest.

But the cards don't matter when _I'm_ here.

Cards don't matter when there's a bomb in the deck. You don't know who has it, you don't know when I'll play, you don't know where I'll come from.

Does it scare you? The uncertainty—does it make you _afraid_?

Don't be _afraid_.

Because I have a plan.

Oh yes.

They say the devil's in the details, but that's not true.

Watch the clock.

_Watch_.

* * *

One.

Three of a kind, two on the roof, the guy who planned the job, full house.

Six.

The bus driver.

That's seven:

Happy, Dopey, Chuckles, Krusty, Bozo, Grumpy, and me. _Smiley_.

One is three of a kind, two killed before school's out, leaves four.

Happy kills Dopey, Grumpy kills Happy, Chuckles kills Grumpy, Krusty kills Chuckles, Bozo kills Krusty.

Leaves three.

That's the plan.

_Boring_.

The only sensible way to live is _not_—shuffle the deck, add a wild card.

This city never fails to deliver. She _deserves_ a better class of criminal.

_One_ is _three_ of a _kind_.

* * *

It's a bank job.

Why don't people rob more banks?

Morality? No. Don't talk like _them_. Talk. Like. _Me_.

So.

Why don't people rob more banks?

Because—they have a _backstory_.

Lose the story and you lose your _face_. Lose your face, and you have nothing to do with all your _rules_. The only _game_ is the theory, and the only theory is in the mirror, staring into a city. Staring into their system.

Lose your story and you see the funny side. You're always laughing.

People—they think you're laughing at _them_. They don't _see_. They're _afraid_.

Laugh.

_Laugh!_

_

* * *

_

I'm not robbing any bank.

Oh no.

The _message_ is in the _medium_. The _plan_ is in the _timing_.

Harvey Two-Face's been tightening their cage. Gordon's got plans to hit their wallets.

_He_'s still insane, trying to prove something to himself. Trying to _inspire_ people.

Don't pay attention to them.

Look at _me_.

_They_ think I'm a sideshow, the last act before the curtains close.

You have _no_ idea.

I'm the sideshow and the finale, the first act before the joke. By the time I'm done, you'll be _begging_ for more.

You won't remember what _insanity_ was like before _me_.

* * *

"Three of a kind. Let's do this."

Grumpy, Chuckles, Bozo, van. And me. _Smiley_.

"Two guys on the roof."

Happy, Dopey. Happy kills Dopey.

"Every guy gets a share. Five shares is plenty."

Six. The bus driver.

"Six shares. Don't forget the guy who planned the job."

Seven. _Smiley_.

"He thinks he can sit it out and still take a slice?"

Bozo is frowning.

"I know why they call him 'The Joker.'"

Bank manager kills Chuckles. One.

Reload.

Two.

Reload.

Three.

Reload.

Four.

"Hey!"

Reload.

Five.

"You have any idea who you're stealing from?"

Yes.

"You and your friends're dead!"

"He's out, right?"

Nod.

Bank manager almost kills Grumpy. Six.

Bozo shoots bank manager.

"Where did you learn to _count_?"

I _love_ this city.

Grumpy kills Happy. Grumpy wants to kill Bozo.

"I'm betting The Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash."

Krusty the _bus driver_ kills Grumpy the _wise guy_.

"School's out. Time to go."

Bozo kills Krusty.

"Think you're smart, huh?"

68 million. _Timing_.

"Criminals in this town used to believe in things: honor, _respect_."

Check the time. Plenty.

"Look at you!"

_Look_ at _me_!

"What do you believe in? _What do you believe in?_"

Bank manager—blue collar criminal, worked his way up to an _office job_. Likes _guns_, _hunting_, and the NRA.

What does _he_ believe in? Two-faced _honor_. _Respect_.

Harvey _Dent_.

Time to deliver the _punch. line_.

_Smiley_ eats Bozo:

"I believe whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you "

_Say it_.

* * *

And here we—

_Go_.


	3. Prep

So.

What can you buy with $68 million?

A suit. I chose the cloth. Picked out the buttons.

Electronics. The cheap stuff—doesn't have to be fancy, what I need.

_Video_ camera.

Lots of _gasoline_.

Detonators. C-4. _Wires_.

Guns. Bazookas.

A truck. I've got a motto already: "_Slaughter_ is the best medicine."

Rocket launchers. The shoulder kind.

Playing cards.

Can't forget my _facepaint_.

You can never have _too many_ knives.

But _honestly_, most of the money's for _people_. To do things. Like put a nice bottle of _Clyburn_ in someone's desk. At the right _time_, obviously.

Our operation is _small_.

* * *

Gasoline, gasoline, gasoline.

So much to do with _gasoline_.

I want _these_ drums _stored_ at 250 52nd St and _these_ go to Ave X in Cicero—the abandoned building.

_These_ go down near the ferries. We'll move them when the _time_ is right.

And the _rest_, save up for _special_ occasions. _Gasoline_ always makes things _better_.

_No_ questions.

I have a plan.

I have a _plan_.

_Timing_'s important, but you can't have _timing_ without a little _preparation_.

Nametags. _Names_. _Targets_.

It's nothing personal.

I just want to see how _he_ reacts.

I just want to see if he'll kill me.

* * *

We _downsized_ recently. Would you like to _join_?

There's lots of _potential_ for aggressive _expansion_.

_Smile_. Now _laugh_.

Come with me.

Take the bag.

Get in the van.

No questions.

Wear this.

We're going to the _hospital_.

_This_ is C-4. Fill _every_ crack you find in Gotham General. The hospital is _unstable_ and we're going to make _repairs_. We're here to do public _service_.

_Carefully_ inspect _every_ room. Elevator shafts. Maintenance rooms. _Potties_. These patients _deserve_ the best _care_.

Set it off?

When are we going to set it off?

Come here.

Want to know how I got these _scars_?

* * *

You can't trust _anyone_ to do things _right_, these days.

Have to do _everything_ by yourself.

But. I _enjoy_ it. _Hard_ work. It's like _Beethoven_. He _blew out_ his _eardrums_, so he could _hear_ the _music_.

You can't have a _symphony_ without the _orchestra_. If you want the orchestra to _play_, you have to bring the _notes_:

When the _conductor_ gets up on stage and the _lights_ dim, you shoot him with a _sniper rifle_ from the _audience_. And replace the _percussion_ with a _machine gun_.

And the _violins_ with women _screaming_ and _clarinets_ with _sirens_.

Beethoven's _Fifth_:

da-da-da-_DUUUM_

Bam-Bam-Bam-_BOMB_

* * *

Meanwhile, in the _cave_, a lonely little _man_ sits, making _plans_.

Plans for _justice_. For _inspiration_. For the _redemption_ of Gotham.

"One man or the Mob. He can _wait_."

Oh yes. I _am_ waiting.

It doesn't occur to him that _I_ am _Mob_. I'm _more_ Mob than _those_ idiots will _ever_ be. I'm the _embodiment_ of everything the Mob _wishes_ it was.

They just don't _know_ it yet.

They _will_. I'm _waiting_.

The problem with his _plans_ is that they have no _timing_. There's no sense of _urgency_. No _order_.

He'll _learn_. I'm not _worried_.

He's _never_ one to _disappoint_.

* * *

Names. Nametag targets. Targets.

List of nametags. Time to look at the _white_ pages.

Harvey Harvey Harvey _Dent_.

Patrick Harvey. Neal Harvey. Harvey _Birdman_. Harvey Harrisburg. _Patricia_ Harvey.

Roger _Dent_. Ephraim Dent. Karen Dent. Richard Dent—that would make _him_ Dick Dent. I _like_ that.

Let's play eenie-meenie-miney-_ming_:

Catch a bat-rat by the _wings_

Harvey needs a different _zing_

eenie-meenie-miney-_thing_

My _conscience_ said to _choose_ the _very_ best _one_ and you are not _funny_.

_Patrick_ Harvey it is.

Now the others:

Commissioner. Mayor. The _squeeze_. She's _very_ interesting. And _beautiful_.

Only _six_?

Hm.

But _Gotham_ will _provide_. She always has.

* * *

Why do you want the _voices_ to go away?

You don't _like_ them? They _tell_ you things? What kinds of _things_?

_Ohhh_. _Scary_ things. They like to _laugh_.

I can make them go _away_. I'll replace them with _lights_. Like _Christmas_. Is that what you want? _Christmas_.

Then lie down. I'm going to make you go to _sleep_. And when you wake up, the _voices_ won't be there anymore. No more _laughing_.

Go to sleep. _Go_ to _sleep_.

You—latex, scalpel. Bring the box.

_Watch_.

You make the incision _here_.

Put the phone _here_.

Bomb _here._

Sew it up.

_Done_.


	4. Trick

I know the squealers when I see them.

I _know_ the squealers when I _see_ them.

I know the _squealers_ when I see them.

It's not hard.

He used a _television_ to tell a _joke_.

What do I always say—the _message_ is in the _medium_.

And his little _gang_—it wasn't hard to find one and make _him_ squeal. Time, place, everything he knew. And some things he _didn't_ know.

Chinese have their own _rules_. They've got _brains_, but no _originality_. Everything's a ripoff.

I know the squealers when I see them.

Accountant. Good at calculation.

Calculation isn't _math_.

* * *

Oh Gambol. Gambol Gambol Gambol.

You're too easy to play. Too easy to read. All muscle and no brains.

You're _family_. You're _clan_. You're _brothers_ and _boys_, _grandma_'s cooking and _dick_ contests. You're _homeboys_ and _protection_, _territory_ and _piss_.

You're _boring_.

You can't be _strange_—you've got no _imagination_. You can't see the _funny side_ because you're _bitches_ and _hos_, _thugs_ and _smack_. All guns and no _creativity_.

You're _manners_ and _momma_ didn't raise no _fool_. You're _respect_ and _nigger_, scraped an _honest_ territory dealing coke in the _hood_.

You can't stand the _sight_ of me because I'm a _clown_.

* * *

A magic trick.

Want to see one? I came _prepared_. I _practiced_.

First, you stick a pencil in the table. Make it stand up, _stay_ up—sometimes they don't. Ruins the trick. Tip: make the lead _sharp_ and _long_.

Wait. First take the eraser out. That's your point of _impalement_.

Next, you have to know how _far_ to hold the guy to make the pencil _disappear_. Beginners—aim for _eyeholes_.

Then, grab his head and _slam_. On the pencil. _Hard_. This takes a _little_ practice. Has to be _fast_. Find a good pencil. I like Pentech.

And

TA-DA!

It's _gone_.

* * *

The Chechen.

Now _there's_ an interesting place. _Chechnya_.

Not Gotham—nothing can be _Gotham_, but it's another little system. War, terrorists, soldiers, and _shepherds_.

You know what I heard once?

All Chechens know how to use a _rocket launcher_. But not all Chechens know how to tend _sheep_.

I _like_ that.

Now Mr. Rottweiler thinks he knows how to be a _shepherd_. He lets his _dogs_ loose on the _sheep_. Let's a _mad dog_ out to take care of the problem.

No no no. A _good_ shepherd takes care of the problem _himself_.

A good shepherd isn't _afraid_ of _bats_.

* * *

"Let's wind the clock back a year."

tick tock tick tock

I have a speech. I _speech_ their language. It's not hard. I _know_ what they _want_ before _they_ know it. It's all part of the _plan_.

"A guy like me…"

"Freak."

Can't hurry the act, can't _hurry_ the _act_.

Listen, Gambol.

"I know why you're afraid to go out at night."

_Him_.

When _they're_ gone, it'll be _our_ playground.

"Dent, he's just the beginning."

Of the end. Of the end, of the _end_.

"We kill the Batman."

_We_? No.

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already."

* * *

Maroni.

_Bland_. Like wet spaghetti.

These Italians, Sicilians, _whatever_. Should've stayed on their side of the Atlantic.

You see—criminals aren't looking for chaos. They're looking for a new _order_ and if they had it _their_ way, they'd be _tyrants_. _Mussolini_ is Maroni's idea of a wetdream. Rome and Empire.

I'm his _Jesus_.

He's Constantine.

Maroni _converts_ to me because he thinks it'll save his _soul_—his _empire_.

When I unleash the plague and _burn_ the city, he'll blame me. Want to _crucify_ me. Become Pilate—wash his _hands_ of me.

I'm the _Saviour_. Come to wash Gotham in _blood_.

* * *

Oh, you didn't think I'd use that. You thought I was all about _games_.

You think I'm _out of character_. When did the Antichrist become a _clown_?

You tell me.

_You're_ the one who thinks I'm _acting_. _You're_ the one who thinks I'm _strange_.

Oh, you want to refer to literary canon? You want to point to the _comic strips_.

I _am_ whatever you _write_ me to be. I _am_ the words of your _reflection_. You can't stop _looking_ because you see _yourself_.

Does it frighten you? To know just how _strange_ you really are.

Don't be afraid to _laugh_.

* * *

"_Enough_ from the clown!"

What did Grumpy say? "I _know_ why they call him 'The Joker.'"

Really? _He_ knows?

You've got to have an ace in the hole. Mine's suicide bombing.

But let's not _blow_ this out of proportion.

"You think you can steal from us and walk away?"

Think. _Think_? I _know_. I _did_.

"I'm putting the word out. 500 grand for this clown dead, a million alive so I can teach him some manners _first_."

Little Gambol needs a lesson in _manners_ from grandma.

I'm only trying to _help_.

Hm. Oh well. _Time_ to go.

Here's my card.

* * *

Sitting in a kitchen. Group therapy with a television.

_Pathetic_.

Their _balls_ didn't drop off—they never _had_ any to begin with.

_He_ thinks it's a contest of _justice_. I know the truth. It's a contest of the _crazies_.

Here's an idea: _crime makes sense_. There's _reasons_ why people go career. There's _stories_. That's why there's _courts_. To hear the _stories_.

I have no story.

_They_ think it's about money. Murder for money—now that's _twisted_.

The only _fairness_ in the world is _arbitrary_, without sense and without justification. The only _sanity_ in killing is _outside_ their system.

Completely _random_.

* * *

The _real_ trick is in the _hands_.

_Sleight_ of hand.

I'll show you. Come here.

I grab your left hand with my left hand. Nice and tight. No _escape_, see?

I grab your head with my right hand. A little to the side. Makes your head _turn_. Makes it easier to impale on a _soft spot_.

My left hand pins yours down to the table—like so.

While my right hand—the one everyone's watching—slams your head into the pencil.

Like _THIS_.

I do it _fast_, so no one _sees_.

They only see the pencil, _disappeared_.

Practice makes _perfect_.

* * *

Half.

I said half.

_Interesting_ that _no one_ asked the _sanest_ question of all:

Half of _what_.


	5. Profiles

Harvey. The _White_ Knight.

Harvey's an _all-American_ boy, through and through. Shining idealist. _Bold_. _Confident_. Looks good on _television_.

So _sure_ of himself and the _systems_ around him.

Harvey-boy believes in _American_ dreams. That wars are _winnable_, that good _always_ conquers. That _stability_ is in _sanity_.

It's too _easy_.

He'll be more _interesting_ as America's _true_ face—_two_ face.

Ever seen a _disillusioned_ American?

They can't _deal_ with _degrees_ of _madness_. To them, everything's _fair_ or _not_. Break someone like _Harvey_ and they can't _process_ the world around them.

They _really_ go _mad_.

I _believe_ in Harvey Dent.

Really _believe_.

* * *

Streets _quiet_. No sign of _him_.

That's because he's on a _mission_.

What did I say?

"Batman _has_ no _jurisdiction_."

Only a _mission_ to _save_ Gotham. He won't let _one_ silly little _squinter_ get in the way of his _plan_.

He thinks it's the end, but it's the _beginning_. The beginning of _eternity_.

The night isn't _darkest_ before the _dawn_.

I'm changing the game, just like _he_ changed it a year ago. When I'm done, _night_ and _day_ won't _matter_ and it'll be _his_ move.

Whoever wants to _win_ has to reinvent the _rules_.

_Over_, and _over_, and _over_ again.

* * *

Mayor Anthony Garcia. Promised in his _campaign_ to clean the streets.

_Politicians_.

Garcia. That's a _Hispanic_ name. I wonder how many _Salvadorans_ are in _County_ right now.

You see—Garcia's putting on the _pressure_. Because it's _popular_. Because there's _money _in _garbage_ disposal. That's how _democracy_ works.

The _message_ is in the _medium_.

Without _money_ for _facetime_ on _television_, Garcia wouldn't have a _show_.

You see—you don't want _order_ in Gotham. You don't _really_ want _justice_.

What you _want_ is something _familiar_. Something _systematic_.

Something _boring_.

Don't be afraid.

_Face_ the _strangeness_ inside.

And you'll find my new _order_.

* * *

_Why_ do I _kill_?

Better question—why do _you_ think I have a _reason_ for killing?

Why do _you_ think there's a reason for _anything_ I do, if I have no _backstory_?

I have a plan.

I have a _plan_, but does that imply _justification_? Does it imply a _goal_?

I don't know.

You tell _me_—does my _plan_ have _purpose_?

You see—_murder_ is like _math_.

Some people do it because it's _useful_. Some people do it for _money_. It gets them things they _want_.

But some people—some people do _math_ because it's _interesting_.

Some people do _math_ because it's _beautiful_.

* * *

Commissioner Loeb likes to take a _sip_ or two when he's _tired_.

He gets _tired_ a lot.

_Criminals_ these days. They're _desperate_. They're _hungry_. They're _hemmed in_ and _confused_. It makes _long hours_ at the office, and headaches.

Commissioner Loeb doesn't like _him_, but he'll _love_ me. I _know_. He'll like me so_ much_, he'll invite me to his _funeral_.

Commissioner Loeb is _wary_ about the Mayor. He's _smart_. He _knows_ where the _money_ comes from. Who the Mayor's _friends_ are.

Commissioner Loeb will like me so_ much_, I'll _honor_ his death with _another_.

I've already sent him my_ card_.

* * *

It all depends on the _Bat_.

It's all part of the _plan_.

We _need_ each other. Action and reaction, action and _re_action.

He _acted_. I'm _re_acting. _He_'ll react to my actions of reactions in acting!

You see—every action is a _choice_. _He_ doesn't know it, but depending on his _choices_, depending on how much _time_ it takes him to catch onto my _game_—_he_ determines all the _outcomes_.

Depending on his _timing_, I'll rewrite the _rules_.

So really, _I'm_ not doing anything. Just letting people _react_.

No rules but _reaction_.

Let's wind all the clocks back. Start the _stopwatch_.

* * *

Isn't it funny how no one in this town _sleeps_?

I don't.

_He_ doesn't. Bats are _nocturnal_.

Gordon, and the MCU. Loeb, with his little police programs. Garcia sleeps like a baby, but he's been _tossing_ and _turning_. Worrying about _Harvey_.

Harvey works very hard, to put the _scum_ of Gotham behind _bars_. To bring _justice_ to his _system_. The Mob works very hard, to find another _corner_ to hide in. They're _wide _awake, day and night.

And Gotham—she _never_ sleeps.

_No one_ will _want_ to sleep when the _games_ begin.

And you _know_ what they say about _insomnia_.

* * *

Gordon is a rare breed.

Rare, _rare_ breed.

The kind that keeps their head low and does the dirty work no one wants. The quiet kind that slinks around in darkness. Careful. _Watching_. The kind that doesn't _stop_.

He's a rat. A _rat_ on the wrong side of the cage, working their little _wheel_.

It's the quiet ones you've got to look out for. You think that Harvey _Dent_ is the soul of Gotham?

The day Gordon _smiles_ is the day I've _won_.

But you don't win wars in one battle.

I'm saving up something _special_ for Gotham's beloved _Commissioner_.


	6. Jester

The Jester.

My calling card is the _jester_.

Everyone knows that a good joke depends on the _delivery_. And what determines the delivery?

You _know_ the answer.

Now, learn this:

A good comedian _practices_. _Writes_. _Memorizes_. Has a _routine_ that _looks_ improvised, made up on the spot. _Comedy_ depends on _context_, and the context's got to be fresh. _Raw_.

A good actor knows the _laughing curve_. Knows, you have to _wait_ for the laughter to die down a little, then _hit_ them with another line.

The best jesters know, and then add a little _anarchy_.

It keeps the audience _captive_.

* * *

Wrap me in plastic, wrap me in plastic.

"Dead? That's 500."

Oh Gambol. Gambol Gambol Gambol. So _trusting_.

Time for a _story_.

_Storytime_.

"My father was a drinker and a _fiend_."

Look at me, Gambol, _look at me_.

"One night, he goes off _crazier_ than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself."

Sound familiar, Gambol?

"He doesn't like that. _Not_. _One_. _Bit_."

Sound _familiar_?

"So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, _laughing_ while he does it."

That's _why_ you lived with _grandma_. I _know_.

Your story isn't _strange _enough.

"He turns to me and he says"

* * *

"Why so _serious_?"

Eyes on me, Gambol. _Relax_. You _can't_ look _away_.

"He comes at _me_ with the knife."

Can't _think_ of anything. _Paralyzed_. Paralysis. Plans turned _sideways_.

"Why so _serious_?"

He thinks he _knows_ the punch line. And he doesn't _move_. Such a _captive_ audience.

"Sticks the _blade_ in my mouth."

It's my _favorite_ knife.

"Let's put a _smile_ on that face."

Wait for it.

"_Aaaand_…"

Have to pay attention to the _others_ in the audience. It's not _fair_ to them.

"Why so serious?"

A _little_ twist and Gambol's _gone_. No knife. Just a _snap_.

_Timing_. _Expectation_. _Delivery_.

TA-DA!

* * *

You see—I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve.

I'm not a _monster_. I'm just _ahead_ of the _curve_.

The curve goes like this:

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha

When you get to "_HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha," I'm delivering my next joke.

So the curve _really_ goes like this:

1: ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha

2: ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha

3: ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha

4: Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha

5: Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha

6: HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA

and a half:

HA _HA HA HA  
_HA _HA HA HA  
_HA_ HA HA HA  
_HA_ HA HA HA  
_HA_ HA HA HA  
_HA_ HA HA HA  
_HA_ HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA_

* * *

Good and loosened up, _good_ and loosened up, putty in my hands.

It's not easy, killing someone snapping their neck. It's not like the _movies_.

And Gambol—had a thick neck. Lots of muscles. Lots of _meat_.

Watch my hands. _Watch_ my hands. _Sleight_. Don't _blink_.

You _twist_ like this. _This_ angle. It's very _slight_. You have to get it _exactly_, or you won't break his little neck. Break your wrist _wrenching_ against muscles, if Gambol's paying attention.

He thought he knew the punchline.

_They_ thought _they_ knew the punchline.

Did you see? Did you see them _close their eyes_?

* * *

The best acts are when the audience _participates_.

I _like_ participation.

It adds more _players_ to the _game_. Soon, _everyone_ will play. Right now, we have _teams_.

_Three_ mini-Gambols. _One_ spot. _Half_ a billiard cue. _Perfect_.

Let's have _tryouts_.

You see—people don't _think_ inside the _system_ when they're _panicked_. When there's no _rules_.

You see—if the mini-Gs kept their _heads_, they'd _realize_ they're bigger, stronger, more _experienced_ than my _little_ thugs. They can _change_ the _game_.

But they're so _mesmerized_ by my act that they _don't_.

You want to _beat_ my _game_—you have to _think_ like _me_.

* * *

It's awful quiet right now.

Awful _quiet_.

Can you _feel_ it?

The _timing_.

It pays to have a _perfect_ sense of _timing_.

I _love_ this part. _Love_ it. Makes me _excited_. Because no one _knows_. Yet.

Ring around the _rosy_, pocket full of _crazies_, ashes, _ashes_, we all _blow up_.

Rings around the _city_, Gotham is so _pretty_, ashes, _crashes_, we all _count down_.

Ring around your _bunny_, Ha Ha Hee Hee _funny_, break you, break _you_, you all wear _masks_.

Rings and rounds and _timing_, _bats_ and _rats_ and _clowning_ , watch me—_watch_ me—and _here_

_we_

_go._


	7. Squealer

The squealer squealed! The squealer _squealed!_

I told you. I _know_ them when I see them!

I _told_ you!

549 rounded up to tell their _stories_. And Harvey _Dent_, the little lion tamer. With a _flip_. And a coin.

Let the clown out of the box, let the _clown_ out of the _box_. And then you'll see who's the _ringmaster_ of this show.

It's starting, it's _starting!_

Get your popcorn and your cotton candy, bring the _kiddies_ out to _watch_.

I've got _balloons_ and _grenades_ and _peanuts_ for sale. Tell the neighbors the _circus_ is in town!

Time for _fireworks_.

* * *

We're going _bat_ hunting tonight.

Now, it's a little hard. We only want _one_. This bat works in a _pack_. With two, three others. A gang of _flying rodents_.

We only want _one_ because people're scared of _one_. They start thinking, "It could've been _me_."

Oh yes. And it will be. It _will_. I promise you.

But not yet.

The _pack_, they've let _Batman_ go to their heads.

So. Here's the plan:

I _know_ where they live. Pick one—the one with hockey pants.

We're going to _kill_ the neighbor's _dog_ and _daughter_.

And the _bat_ comes out to _play_.

* * *

Don't be afraid.

Shhh, quiet now.

Don't be afraid.

Shhh, hush. Hush. _Hush_.

Now.

Tell me my name.

Are you the real Batman?

No? _No_? Then why aren't you smiling? Why so _serious_?

Afraid? No, don't be afraid. Don't be afraid.

Be _strange_.

Be strange. Whatever doesn't kill you, only makes you _saner_.

Look at me.

_Look at me!_

You see—this is how _crazy_ you are on the _inside_. You want _order_ and _justice_—take off your mask and _face_ the _abyss_.

Oh, and every day you don't, people will die.

Starting tonight.

I'm a man of my _word_.

* * *

Round them up to tell their _stories_. Judge Surillo is _hearing_ all the _stories_.

Question: If I have no _story_, can anything I do be _personal_? Can any of the _murders_ be _meaningful_ to me?

Gotham _provides_. Names. Targets. Nametags.

It's a _job_. _They_'ve let me _loose_.

I'm attacking the _office_, not the _person_. I've got nothing against Mrs. Surillo. Or the mayor. Or Mr. Loeb.

This is a _job_. I _like_ it, but there's nothing _personal_.

The only _personal_ thing I have, is with _you_. A _freak_ in reflection.

How else can you _hear_ me _speaking_ in your _head_?

* * *

Now Brian. You're coming with _me_.

Want to know where we're going?

To kill you? Oh no. I wouldn't _kill_ you in a _slaughterhouse_. That's already been _done_. We need some _originality_.

Tell me, Brian. Can bats fly?

They _can_? If you're a little bat _man_, can _you_ fly?

You _can't_? But why _not_? Have you ever _tried_?

You _haven't_? Well, there's a first _time_ for _everything_. _This_ is your big _chance_.

Hold still, Brian. _Hold_ _STILL_. It's just a _little_ knife. A little _smile_. Shh, don't cry, Brian. Don't _cry_.

Better. Smile, Brian. _Smile_.

Oh, we're almost there. _Good_.

* * *

_Count_ing, _clock_ing, _clown_ing.

712 _counts_ of extortion.

849 _clocks_ of racketeering.

246 _clowns_ of fraud.

87 _counts_ of conspiracy/_murder._

527 _clocks_ of obstruction of _justice._

My my my.

Let's do some _calculation_.

That's 2,421 counts _total_. There's 549 _clowns_ pooled together in this _show_. Comes out to 4.4098 crimes per criminal.

What did I say—this town _deserves_ a better class of _criminal_.

4.4 crimes? That's _pathetic_.

And only 87 counts of conspiracy/_murder_?

What was the Mob _doing_ with all their _time_? Sitting on their _hands_?

I'll give Gotham the _show_ she _deserves_:

Two freaks. One city. Six acts.

_Watch_.

* * *

Now. You see that building?

Say yes, Brian.

Don't _shake_ your _head_. _Say it_.

Aw, I know it hurts. Are you afraid, Brian? Are you? Say it.

Look over _there_. That's right. Do you know, who's in that building?

_No_? What kind of _citizen_ are you? That's _City Hall_, Brian. City _government_.

The mayor's office. That's _right_.

What'm I going to do? That's not the right _question_. What're _you_ going to do, Brian?

You don't _know_? I have to do _all_ the _thinking_ around here.

Brian, you're going to _fly_.

Not possible? Don't _worry_. You're still smiling. See? You're _smiling._

_

* * *

_

The mayor has a corner office. With a nice, _open_ view of Gotham's great _municipal_ district. Near the _courthouse_. There's lots of important _people_ in there.

The _message_ is in the _medium_. The _plan_ is in the _timing_.

When Gotham delivers, she really _delivers_.

_I_ didn't know that _Harvey_ and the mayor were having a _meeting_. _I _didn't know that Gordon and the commissioner were in the building.

All _I_ knew was that Judge Surillo ended proceedings for the _Reco_ case. _Storytime_ over. That's all _I_ knew.

_Me_? _I_ was with Brian. Teaching him how to _fly_. Where were _you_?

* * *

Put on your makeup, Brian. No, not your _mask_. Not _yet_. Black goes around your eyes, like _this_. _That's_ it.

White goes on your face.

Your _smile_ hurts when you touch it? It's _bleeding_? That's okay. White goes _all over_ your face.

Why're your hands _shaking_, Brian? Why're you _crying_? It's _ruining_ your makeup. Stop crying.

_Stop CRYING_.

I'll do the red. You can't _see_ your smile. But I've had lots of _practice_.

Now, let's put this card on your costume. _Don't_ touch. There's _two_ messages. I want _everyone_ to see.

It says, "Will the _real_ Batman please stand up?"

* * *

"Please be aware. The image _is_ disturbing."

Disturbing. _Disturbing_. Are you _disturbed_?

"Tell them your name."

I _like_ my voice.

"Are you the real Batman?"

He _really_ almost had me _fooled_.

"No? _No_? Then why do you _dress up_ like him?"

That's not _fair_. Pretending to be someone you're _not_. That's a _crime_.

"So you think Batman's made Gotham a better place?"

I do. I _really_ do.

"Look at me."

He doesn't want to _look_.

"_Look_ at _ME_."

The reveal!

"You see _this_ is how _crazy_ Batman's made Gotham."

And it's a _good_ thing. The _best_ thing anyone's _ever_ done for _Gotham_.

"You want _order_ in Gotham."

I'll _give_ you _order_. I'll _give_ you a _game_.

"Batman must take off his _mask_"

Take off his _mask_ and _face_ the abyss

"take off his mask and turn himself in."

Take off his mask and turn himself in. Into _me_.

"And every day he doesn't, people _will_ die."

And when he _does_, people will keep _dying_.

"Starting tonight."

The squealer squealed, the game's revealed, starting tonight the rules are _repealed_.

"I'm a man of my _word_."

Laughter laughing laughingly.

That turned out _much_ better than I expected.

I should get an _award_.

* * *

Through the back door. Up the stairs.

What's this? It's _rope_, Brian. You didn't think I'd let you _fall_, did you? What if you can't _fly_? What if you just _fall_?

Let's put your _mask_ on now. It's a very nice mask, Brian. You almost had me _fooled_.

All right. Time for the _rope_. Nice and _tight_. We don't want you to _fall_ through your _mask_. So _nice_ and _tight_.

Brian. Such a _captive_ audience. You like my jokes. I know—you're _smiling_.

When I count to three, I want you to _fly_. Stand on the ledge.

One.

Two.

_Three_.


	8. Party

If I _waited_ for the _time_ that the Mob came knocking on my door, I'd never be _prepared_.

They'd _never_ be able to play my _game_. They'd be _completely_ lost.

Gordon's _fast_. _Uncanny_. But he's got _limits_, because he's got _rules_. I have to give them _clues_.

He and his _team_ will find three sets of prints on Brian's card.

It wasn't easy, you know. Making sure _only_ the _right_ people touched it.

The _judge_ was problematic. I didn't _know_ until the _last _minute _who_ was hearing the case. I _cut_ it pretty _close_.

But that's the _thrill_ of _timing_.

* * *

And _this_ is _interesting_.

Bruce Wayne is throwing a _fundraiser_ for Harvey Dent.

Well well.

Speaking of _timing_, listen to this joke:

Twenty-two years ago, _Thomas_ and _Martha_ were _shot_, son _watching_.

Eight years ago, everyone _freaked _because Gotham's darling _billionaire_ disappeared.

Seven years later, everyone _freaked_ because Gotham's _darling_ came back to _life_. With _no details_ about where he'd been.

The same time, everyone _freaked _because _he_ appeared, with his _car_ and _expensive_ suit, making the Mob look like a _cheap_ act.

_Then_—it gets better—someone tried to _destroy_ Gotham. And he _saved_ it.

It's all very _convenient_.

* * *

You thought I didn't _know_?

I don't _know_. I _speculate_. I _might_ be wrong. You see—I always leave room for _uncertainty_. It makes the game _better_. If I _knew_ everything, things would be so _boring_.

So, I don't _know_.

And I don't _care_.

You thought when I told him to take off his _mask_, I was talking about the _suit_.

No, you see—the _meaning_ is in the _mirror_:

_Batman_ is _his_ true face. Whatever else he _pretends_ to be is a _two_ face.

When you wear a mask, it _frees_ you to be the _freak_ you _really_ are.

* * *

Loeb needs a _drink_ tonight. _Stress_ kills. I've got his _favorite_ medicine. Happy deathday, _Commissioner_. And many _returns_.

Surillo—not my _best _work. I don't _like_ car bombs. I'm a _clown_, not a _terrorist_. I make people laugh. _Smile_.

There's not enough _fun_ in a car bomb, but what to do. I work with what I have, given the _timing_. Now the envelope—_that_ was trickier.

I'm paying Harvey a _special_ visit because he isn't so _serious_. Harvey knows how to _play_. He's got the _instincts_ for it.

And there's the _thrill_ of _uncertainty_.

_Tonight_—it's a _stand-up_ comedy routine.

* * *

Practicing jokes in the elevator. To elevator _music._ It's all in the _timing_. Let's make them _laugh_.

"Want to know how I got these scars?"

That's my _best_ one. Audiences _love_ that one. They _lap_ it up. But you know—I don't want to fall into a _pattern_. I need to think up some _better_ jokes.

Wuertz breathes like a _pig_. _Squeals_ like a pig. Does he _laugh_ like a pig?

"Stick to the _plan_. No attacking the _audience_."

They start playing _later_. These are _previews_. We're tonight's _entertainment_.

Count the floors, up we go!

_Ding_

"We made it."

_BANG!_

_

* * *

_

"_Good_ evening ladies and gentle-_men_."

_Bang_ with _bank_ manager's gun. _Loud_. Like a _foghorn_.

Looking round and round and—someone _surrenders_. Holds up his _arms_.

Oh no. Can't _throw in_ the towel yet, not when the _real_ game hasn't even _started_.

"We are "

Here to kill you.

…

_HA_-HA!

Expectation, _expectation_. I _really_ know how to _work_ an _audience_.

"Tonight's _entertainment_."

That's it. _Relax_. I'm putting on a _show_.

"And we have one question."

Just a little one.

"Where _is_ Harvey Dent?"

No sound.

Like they're all _waiting_ for the _punch. line._

Hm. Let's try _again_. With the gun. And _champagne_.

* * *

Nothing. Not even _smiling_. So _serious_. Not doing _anything_ but standing dumb as _doorbells_. Standing and _watching_.

Some people _fight_ and some people _fly_. _These_ people—_freeze_.

"You know where Harvey is?"

It's a _yes_ or _no_ question. Not _hard_.

"Do you know who he is?"

Paralyzed. A _captive_ audience. I can _work_ with that.

"Do you know where I can find _Harvey_? I need to _talk_ to him about something. Just something _little_. Huh?"

Dumb dumb dumb. Dumber.

"No."

Tough crowd tonight. Hard to work a room of _wallflowers_.

"You know, I'll settle for his _loved_ ones."

Aaaand—

_Bingo_.

* * *

"We're not intimidated by thugs."

Thugs. _Thugs?_ Do _I_ look like a _thug?_ No.

"You _know_—"

You look like _Wuertz's_ father. A _pig's_ father.

"You remind me of my _father_."

Fathers and daughters and _pigs_ to the _slaughter_.

"I _hated_ my father."

"Okay, stop."

_Interesting_ choice of _words_.

_Okay_. Okay, stop. _Okay_, I've come to _play_.

Look, she even _steps out_. She _really_ wants to play.

Sweetheart, for that—_you_ get to see the _endgame_.

"Well _hello_ beautiful."

She's even wearing _my_ color. _Green_.

"You must be Harvey's _squeeze_."

The audience's getting _excited_.

"And you are _beautiful_."

_Very_ excited.

* * *

Round and round and _inhale_ her _perfume_. She _flinches_.

"You look _nervous_. Is it the scars?"

She's looking at me, all eyes are on _me_.

"You want to know how I got them?"

Yes. Everyone's _dying_ to _know_. The punch line to my best _joke_.

"Come here."

Struggles, a little.

Little, little bunny.

Where's your _bat_, bunny?

"Hey. Look at me."

Little bunny.

You know—I don't think this is going to be a very _funny_ show. Not unless something _happens_. But I don't want to leave the audience _disappointed_.

Gotham _provides_. And _he's_ never one to disappoint.

I _believe_.

* * *

"So I had a wife."

Gotham.

"Beautiful, like you."

_So_ beautiful.

"Who tells me"

Kill.

"I worry too much."

Why so _serious_?

"Who tells me"

Laugh.

"I ought to smile more."

She _loves_ my _smile_.

"Who gambles"

I _told_ her

"and gets in deep"

I _told_ her, no one would treat her _right_, like _I_ could.

"with the _sharks_."

I _told_ her those little Mob boys could _never_ be _me_.

"One day they carve her face."

They carve and carve and carve her _face_.

Beautiful. _Beautiful_.

"And we have no money for surgeries."

They always think it's about the _money_.

* * *

"She can't take it."

I'm going to do her _justice_. I'll be the _freak_ she _deserves_.

"I just want to see her _smile_ again. I just want her to know that I don't care about the _scars_."

She's already smiling. I _know_. I can _feel_ it.

"So, I stick a razor in my mouth"

I'll do _anything_ for Gotham.

"and do this to myself."

_Anything_.

"And you know what?"

She loves me.

"She can't stand the _sight_ of me."

She _provides_ for me. She loves me so much, she made another _freak_ for me.

"She leaves."

To _complete_ me.

"Now I see the funny side."

_Now_ I see the _funny_ side.

"Now I'm always smiling."

_Always_.

"A _little_ fight in you."

Gotham _provides_.

"I like that."

"Then you're going to _love_ me."

* * *

I admit. My little _thugs_ aren't the _smartest_. But who needs _smarts_ when you've got a _clown_ running the _show_.

They attack the Bat. The _masks_ make them feel _insane_. _Insanity_ makes you _invincible_. Makes you _unpredictable_.

The audience gets their little _show_, and I get to _kick_ a knife into the _Bat_. Not bad, for a _preview_.

"Drop the gun."

Take off your mask, take off your mask. At the end of the day, you'll take _off_ your _face_.

Bunny isn't saying anything. Doesn't even _scream_. Just shakes her head. _Interesting_.

"Let her go."

"Very _poor_ choice of _words_."

* * *

Squeality wheelity _squawk_  
The town is going to _talk_  
About the bat  
And bunny _splat_  
Gispity gaspity _gawk_

Dibbery dabbery dead  
The madness goes to _head_  
You'll _eat_ yourself  
No _rules_ impel  
_Bleed_ery _blood_ery bread

Hickory pickory pock  
The clown _controls_ the clock  
The clock strikes _one_  
The plan's be_gun_  
Tickory wickory tock


	9. Parade

_Hello_.

Patrick, _this_ is Richard. Richard, _this_ is Patrick. How do you do? Shake hands. You're going to be _very_ good _friends_.

See—we're going to play a little game. The winner gets to put a _smile_ on the loser's face. How's that sound?

Not a lot of _fun_? Oh, it'll be _lots_ of fun. You just haven't got the _taste_ for it yet. Once you really _savor_ those _emotions_, it'll be _so_ much _fun_.

The game—go fish. Simple game. You've all played, right?

Good. Here's the deck of cards.

And here's the knife.

Whoever find _my_ card, _wins_.

* * *

Patrick _lost_.

He didn't play the _game_.

You see—Harvey went for the _cards_. He was thinking about _rules_.

Dent _understood_. _He_ grabbed the knife. He couldn't make Harvey _smile_ without a little _help_, so one of the clowns held him down.

Harvey _thrashed_ and _struggled_ and _begged_ and cried about _fairness_ and _rules_, but Dent _understood_.

He _really_ enjoyed it. He _really_ made a _mess_.

You can't blame him—Dent hasn't had much _practice_ making people _smile_. _Harvey_'s face looked like it'd been run over by a _lawnmower_.

Then—Dent killed Harvey. On his _own_.

And Melvin killed Dent.

* * *

All right. Time to get down to _business_. _Lots_ of _work_ to do, people!

Who here's had _experience_ with _parades?_

These're your _nametags_. We're going to _honor_ Commissioner Loeb's death with a _guard_ and killing. That's _straightforward_.

You, you, and you—go find a _truck_ driver. Two. Or a _garbage disposal_.

Ooh—better yet, find one of those _hazmat_ trucks or an _oil_ tanker. That'll really make a _splash_.

_Move!_

I want _everything_ in place. I've got a _good feeling_ about the _timing_.

It's _all_ coming _together_.

And after we've _killed_ the mayor, let's go down to the _ferries_.

* * *

Six uniforms. Plus me. Makes seven. Lucky seven. So seven uniforms.

I've got a _list_ here. List of _names_. Courtesy of Officer _Wuertz_.

Pick a name, pick a uniform. Listen _carefully_—pick ones that're your _size_. I _don't_ want you looking _out _of_ place_ with a uniform that doesn't _fit_.

Here's their _profiles_—height, weight, and—oh _look_. There's even _photos_.

We'll stick them in Melvin's apartment—it'll have nice _view_ of the parade. So they can _hear_.

We'll stick them in there tonight—tomorrow's the big _celebration_. Let them sit and _wait_.

Bring duct tape, blindfolds, rope.

And a _timer_.

* * *

A city up in arms.

Gotham's _mighty_ law enforcement, out to show their _true_ colors.

So many _snipers_. _Sharp_shooters. Let's count them.

_Rows_ of officers. In _uniform_. Gotham's _finest_.

Garcia—_pathetic_ speech. Gotham _deserves_ a _better_ mayor.

"We must remember that _vigilance_ is the _price_ of _safety_."

_Interesting_. What does he _mean_?

Another excuse to make more _surveillance_ plans?

"Stand by."

Standing.

"Honor. Guard. _A_-ten. _Huh_!"

Another excuse for more _police_ on the streets?

"Port. _Arms_!"

You're just exchanging one Mob, for _another_.

"Ready. Aim. _Fire_!"

One set of _rules_, for _another_.

"Ready. Aim. _Fire_!"

I have _no rules_.

_Ding_.

* * *

And the crowd goes _wild_.

It's a _standing_ ovation.

My _best_ show _yet_.

_Screaming_ and _scattering_.

Running for _shelter_.

All those neat lines a-_helter_ a-_skelter_.

_Sniping_ and _searching_ and _shooting_ each other.

Nothing like _friendly fire_ to shake up a _circus_.

_Cowering_ and _showering_ and Gotham a-_towering_.

I _love_ this job. I _love_ this city. She lets me _do_ things I can't do _anywhere_ else.

She _really_ lets me put on a _show_. The _audience_ couldn't have been _better_.

Time to go.

I've got to _prepare_. Got to _practice_ for my _next_ act.

Wouldn't want the _audience_ to stop _laughing_.

* * *

Sooo…

Thomas has something _very_ interesting to tell me.

_He_ says that the Bat and the _psycho_ had a _little_ chat. A friendly _conversation_. _He_ says that the _freak_ is going to take off his _mask_.

He _also_ says that _Harvey_ plays _interesting_ games. _Harvey_ likes games of _chance_. _Harvey_ likes to _play_ the odds. _Harvey_ likes to flip _coins_.

And

_Harvey_ likes to _yell_. He gets an odd _gleam_ in his eye when he's about to _kill_ someone.

Harvey got so _upset_ that little Tommy got _away_.

What did I say?

I know the _psychos_ when I _see_ them.

* * *

This is where I take some _chances_.

This is where my _plan_ could go a _hundred_ different ways. Each with a _hilarious_ outcome.

This is where _I_ watch what _he_ does.

Depending on what _he_ chooses, the _game_ changes.

But I can _speculate_.

If I _read_ my _freaks_ right, I know which _script_ they'll use.

There's _always_ the _thrill_ of _uncertainty_.

I find that when _Gotham_ adds _her_ little _twists_ to the plot, she _never_ fails to make things _better_. _Much_ better than anything _I_ could ever _dream_ of.

Like Gordon dead. _That_ was _unexpected_.

Batman's _alone_ now.

Like _me_.


	10. Press

Let's watch Harvey's _show_. I've got to know what the _competition_ is. See how _funny_ his _jokes_ are.

Turn on the _television_.

And _what_ is Bruce Wayne doing at Harvey's little _stand-up_ routine. Hm?

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming."

Well, I'm very glad to be here, Harvey. Here, with my new pal the _truck_ driver.

"I've called this press conference for two reasons."

You really like the number _two_. _Really_ like it.

"Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done."

Oh, Harvey. From one _professional_ to another, I have to say—that was a _terrible_ joke.

"Secondly, because the Batman has offered to turn himself in."

_Now_ you've got my attention. _Now_ you're warming up.

"But first, let's consider the situation."

You lost count, Harvey-boy. It should be _third_. Can't afford to be so _binary_. Not if you want to stay _sane_.

"Should we give in to these terrorist demands?"

How many _times_ do I have to tell you people? I'm _not_ a terrorist. Have you ever seen a _smiling_ terrorist? No. They're all so _serious_.

"Do we really think that he's going to—"

"You'd rather protect an outlaw _vigilante_ than the lives of _citizens_?"

And here's the joke:

You see—it's not about _justice_. It's about _choices_. You present people a choice between _their_ life and _another_ and they'll _kill_ first, _moralize_ later.

After they're _rolling_ in blood, they try to _justify_ themselves and give _reasons_. They try to tell a _story_.

The truth is—there's _no_ justification. There's no _story_.

You think _I'm_ twisted. But _you_ think _killing_ is _calculation_.

_Murder_ is _math_. The only _reason_ to do it is because it's _interesting_ and _arbitrary_.

"The Batman is an outlaw. But that's not why we demand he turn himself in, we're doing it because we're _scared_."

Insightful, Harvey. But your audience _isn't_ buying it. They don't like your _message_. Better change your _medium_. Put on a _different_ face.

"We've been happy to let the Batman clean up our streets for us until now."

Choices, choices, choices. So many _choices_.

"Things're worse than _ever!_"

Actually, they're not.

"Yes they are."

They're _not_.

People _think_ they are because my _acts_ are so high _profile_. So _unusual_. My _jokes_ are so _popular_, they're all over _television_, _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again.

But the _little_, pedestrian crimes? Like killing _nameless_ faces and your next door neighbor?

Or killing _you_?

I have to admit, the _Mob_ was better at that. They're better at being _boring_.

So technically, you _are_ safer. If we _calculate_, it's a matter of _proportion_. With fewer criminals, there's fewer _crimes_. But _technicalities_ don't _matter_. What _matters_ is how you _feel_. What _matters_ is what you _see_.

Keep your eyes on _me_.

I'm not done with _my_ show.

"But the night is darkest just before the dawn."

Harvey Harvey _Harvey_.

Your routine is so _funny_.

"And I promise you, the dawn _is_ coming."

The comic _politician_. The aspiring _inspirationer_. You can take the politics out of the _funny_, but you can't take the _funny_ out of the _politicianer_.

"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken."

All those _speeding_ tickets. I wonder if his _trust fund_ will cover it.

"But to us, not to this _mad_man."

Takes one to know one, Harvey. You'll see.

Ooh! Look—you've almost got them. _All_. _most_.

"No more dead cops!"

What did I _say_? You're just exchanging _one_ Mob for another.

You know—Gotham's police department's a _little_ like Gambol's gang. Instead of _bros_ and _hos_, you've got _cops_ and _pops_. Instead of _blacks_ with _MACs_, you've got _whites_ with _flaks_.

"He should turn himself in!"

"Give us the Batman! Come on!"

"Where is he?"

Harvey, you're _losing_ your audience. You've got to _practice_. You've got to make them _captive_.

"So be it."

Shh! _SHHH_!

It's the _punch_ line!

"Take the Batman into custody."

Punch line, _punch_ line!

"What?"

They don't _get_ your little joke, Harvey. It's okay. Don't worry. You'll have a _better_ show next time.

_I_ promise _you_. _You_ promised them, but now _I'm_ promising _you_.

See?

Fair's _fair_.

"I am the Batman."

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA HA _HA HA HA _HA _HA HA HA _HA_ HA HA HA _HA_ HA HA HA _HA_ HA HA HA _HA_ HA HA HA _HA_ HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA_

_Oooh_—_great_ joke, Bruce.

I haven't heard _that_ one before.


	11. Lock and load

Places, everyone!

Curtains up in six!

I've got fuses _ready_. Everything _timed_. Did you know it takes _four_ minutes to get to Ave. X—or 52nd St., as the case _may_ be—from the MCU? _Speeding_, obviously.

_Everything_ goes according to _plan_.

It all depends on _timing_.

_You_ clowns—Wuertz will bring Harvey-Carvey and you _know_ what to do:

Knock him _out_, tie him _up_, send Wuertz on his _merry_ way, and take _Dent_ to Ave. X. Put him in front of the phone.

_Don't_ talk to the little bunny.

_X_ marks the spot!

Fireworks at _three_—the _switching_ hour.

* * *

_You_ clowns—Ramirez is bringing the _squeeze_.

_Don't_ knock her out. Tie her up, sit her in front of the _phone_, and tell her a _few_ little _facts_:

Tell her, _Harvey's_ on the line.

Tell her, only _one_ of them will _make_ it.

Tell her, her _friends_ are going to _choose_.

Got that?

_Three_ things. That's all.

Don't turn the _lights_ on. Keep her in the _dark_.

Makes it harder for the Bat to _see_. _If_ he figures out my _game_.

_You_ freaks—when you see something _happen_ at the MCU, be _ready_.

How does _joyriding_ sound? In _cop_ cars.

* * *

_This_ is why I like to _prepare_. You never _know_ when a _truck_ will come in handy.

_I_ didn't know they wanted to use a _convoy_ to transfer _Harvey_.

_Exciting_.

So.

Question: How _long_ does it take to transfer Harvey _Dent_ from the MCU to Avenue X?

Answer: Six.

One SWAT van, one GPD van, one helicopter.

I _like_ helicopters.

One garbage truck, one eighteen-wheeler.

The _punch_ line:

One Batmobile.

With a few _cop_ cars added in the mix.

They're putting up _roadblocks_ now.

Hm.

I'll need some _roadblocks_ too.

Call 911—the _fire_ department.

Tell them, the city's _burning_.

* * *

Gotham Fire Department sends a _whole_ truck to rescue a _kitty_ stuck in a _tree_.

They send up _one_ firefighter on the _ladder_.

Fluffy's actually a _Chihuahua_. I did a little _surgery_ to make it more _feline_. I added a _smile_ and _paint_, attached some _dynamite_ and collared the _bait_ to the _bark_.

Little Suzy _cried_ while Mr. Firefighter _rescued_ Fluffy.

A little _boom_ and _ta-_da!

Mr. Firefighter's got no _hands_. He's _falling_ off the ladder. Guess _he_ can't _fly_ either.

The _others_ come out to see what's all the _commotion_.

It's not _fair_ to use guns, so we used _axes_.

* * *

_Amazing_, what a big _red_ truck can do!

How many _firefighters_ it holds. How much _space_ there is. How _fast_ cars _move_ when the _siren's_ screaming _murder_.

I _like_ it.

It's got the _ladder_. And a _hose_! A _long_ hose. Not _useful_ for _tying_ people up, but we _use_ what we can _get_.

Our operation's _efficient_. And _resourceful_.

See—those _fire suits_ might be _useful_ someday. _Uniforms_ are _always_ useful.

Strip them.

_Don't_ kill them.

Lots of neat _tools_ here. Pike poles, axes, floodlights—oh look—_Halligan_ bars, oxygen tanks—unload it _all_.

Let's make this a real _fire_ truck.

* * *

Ring-ring, ring-ring!

So many _phone _calls. Chittering and chattering and _yeah_? Another _roadblock_ on Main and 15th.

_Looks_ like they're taking the _obvious_ route.

Oh—Detective _Squealer_ left a message. Confirmed there's only _one_ SWAT van. Which _means_ they'll put it in front—the _van_guard—with the _copter_ in back.

Almost _too_ easy.

Thank _Gotham_ for _Batman_.

Here's the _plan_:

Attack _sideways_.

_You_ two drive the firetruck _here_ and blow it up. We're almost done rigging the _explosives_.

The _firefighters_? Keep them in there. Alive.

_You_—garbage collector—wait for the _convoy_ to come down the Lower Fifth. Then,

_BAM!_

* * *

You see—we've got to get the convoy down because after _this_ exit, there's _nothing_ for _several_ blocks. _Plenty_ of _time_.

A _trap_. That's _right_. Very _good_. And no _air_ support. Only their _lonesome_. And maybe the _Bat_.

You, you and _you_—you're coming in the _truck_ with me. Yes _you_, Fatty. What's the _matter?_ Your _stomach_ hurt?

Here.

_Eat_ it. _All_ of it. It'll _help_.

_Goood_ boy.

Where was I?

_Here_.

Now, there's lots of _possibilities_ down on the Lower Fifth. But I _want_ Dent to get _here_, to Parkside Ave.

So. That leaves the _helicopter_.

And the _Bat_.

* * *

But the _helicopter_.

I want clowns _here_, _here_, _here_, aaaand _here_. Go up to—seventh floor _should _do it. You're going to shoot _cables_ across the street.

That's _right_. Like a _trip_wire, for _cop_ters. I'll tell you _when_ to lock and load.

_Here_. Take these _walkie-talkies_, and I'll give the _signal_. Take a _second_ cable, if you _miss_. Can't have _that_.

So.

Everyone have a _job_? Everyone knows their _parts_? Everyone's got enough _ammo_?

We're putting on the _best_ show in _Gotham_—a _one-night_ engagement. Let's really _wow_ them.

Everybody _clear_?

Batman?

He'll come. He's the _star_ of the show.

* * *

You two—_firetruck's_ ready. Get _going_.

You three—_your_ job is to keep _me_ supplied with _weapons_.

Hang onto the _handholds_, or you'll _splat_.

_That's_ the pile. Get some more _RPGs_. Load it in the _truck_—_securely_. Things will get a little _bumpy_.

You—_garbageman_.

They'll have a _tail_ of _cop_ cars. Get them all _out_ of the _way_ and keep Dent in _place_.

Their _driver's_ going to try some _moves_.

_Don't_ let him.

Keep him on your _front_ and in _my_ sights. The _closer_ the _better_. I want _clear_ shots of the _White Knight_.

We'll _see_ what _Bat_man _does_.

* * *

_Driver_—I'll call you _cowboy_. I _like_ your _hat_.

So, _cowboy_, we're going to _this_ little roadblock they've got set up _here_. Drive _down_ Exit 26 and wait. When the first cop car passes, hit the _gas_ and _keep_ going.

Yeah. That's the _idea_. _Derail_ the SWAT van and _dump_ them in the _river_.

No, no, don't go _back_. The idea's to be _side_ by _side_. Against oncoming _traffic_.

_Exactly_. I'm going to _open_ the _cargo_ hold and start _shooting_. You _keep_ driving.

If _everything_ goes according to _plan_—which it _won't_—exit at the 71st St. ramp, to Parkside.

* * *

What's the _plan?_

I'm going to pay a little _visit_ to Gotham's _finest_ at the MCU. Rattle their _cage_.

Without _Gordon_, things should be more _interesting_. More _raw_. Those _detectives_'ve had a lot of _casualties_.

They want _blood_. They want _me_.

And don't think I _forgot_ my _job_. I _don't_ like _squealers_. We have to _collect_ some _debts_.

Killing _Bats?_ Killing _Harvey?_

I don't _know_ what's going to _happen_ to Harvey.

It all depends on the _Bat_. He doesn't _have_ to be _alive_ to determine the _game_, but everything'll be _funnier_ if he _is_.

Don't _kill_ him.

Just have _fun_.

* * *

_Wuertz_ called. Said the _convoy's_ on their way.

Time to _play_.


	12. Lower Fifth

Come on, come on.

Let's get this _show_ on the _road_.

Let's set this town on _fire_.

* * *

Cowboy, honk the horn. _That's_ it.

"Hey, you wait like everybody else, pal."

_POW!_

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha !

Down down _down_, down we go.

* * *

Wait for it. Waiting.

I—I heard something. Like—like a _crash_. Like a _smash_.

Come on, come on. Come to poppa.

* * *

Did you hear that? Did you hear that?

Come on. Show on the road, show on the road.

Lock and load, lock and load, lock and load, lock and

_GO_

* * *

ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha !

_SMASH_

_CRASH_

and

_SPLASH!_

* * *

All right boys. Let's open up shop. _That's_ it.

Harvey Harvey Harvey _Dent_

You can _pretend_, but you can't _disguise_.

Emptying the clip, _emptying_ the clip.

I _like_ the sound of bullets. I _like_ it.

Look at those little _sparks_, Kilson. I told you I'd give you bright lights, like _Christmas_. _Look_!

_Garbage_man, _garbage_man, taking _Harvey_ to the _can_.

_Clear_ shots.

Give me another—

_Hey_—my _favorite_ gun. From my first _bank_ job. Doesn't that bring back _memories_.

Reload.

Two.

Reload.

Three.

Reload.

Four.

Reload.

Five.

Reload.

Six.

Hm.

Another one.

RPG. _That's_ it.

* * *

Let's get rid of that cop car. The one in front. _Shake_ things up a little.

Another one.

_BOOM!_

Bye-bye, Mr. Cop. Have a nice day!

Now, he should _be_ here by now. Where is—

Wait.

I heard something. Can't miss the sound of that engine _anywhere_.

Come on. Come on. Join the _fun_.

Batsy-boy, you're on the _wrong_ side of the road. I'm over _here_.

* * *

Look at him _go_. All that _power_—how many _horses_ do you think are under that hood?

And—

Maybe _he's_ out to kill Dent, if he doesn't change lanes—

_Interesting_.

* * *

Bye-bye, garbageman!

Hm. He's turning around. Not done yet, huh?

Well. I'm _always_ up for a _game_.

RPG. Hand it over.

Driver's trying to do _evasive_ maneuvers in a _two-lane_ road.

Hey! Buddy! You don't need to shake poor _Harvey_ around in there!

I'm not _aiming_ for _you_.

* * *

A _little_ bumpy.

That's okay.

I'm up and ready.

Waiting, waiting, aiming aiming.

Timing, timing. It's all in the _timing_.

Countdown from _six_.

Plenty of _time_.

Listen the engine whine, listen to the engine whir, listen to him _fire_ it _up_

shoot

_GOT HIM_

_

* * *

_

ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha !

explosion _explosion_

Hear all the _explosions_?

_Fireballs!_

_

* * *

_

Ooh—cowboy's dead.

Excuse me, _I_ want to drive!

Harvey Harvey Harvey _Dent_

Up the ramp, 71st St.

All the old _predictable_ routes.

Up to Parkside.

_Up_ on _stage_.

* * *

Aaaand—

Here come the _cop_ters. Choppity choppity chop.

Rack them up, rack them up, rack them up.

Choppity choppity choppity and _watch_ what kind of _trapeze_ act _I_ conduct! With _helicopters_.

_One_ flip.

_Two_ flips.

_Three_ flips.

Crash into the glass and can it make the dismount?

* * *

Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha !

_Beautiful_

I give it a _ten_ for _landing_.

Fireballs and _rolled over_ Dent! Did you see that? Did you see that?

I _like_ this job. I _like_ it.

* * *

_Boom_

Now _there's_ a _Bat_man.

He's got another little toy.

Oooh—he wants to play.

Come on.

* * *

Come on.

You and the bat-bike.

Come on.

Me and 18 wheels.

Come on.

Aaand—_what_ is he—

* * *

Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha !

He _missed!_

Clear shot and he—

* * *

Ow.

_Clever_, batsy-boy.

_Great minds_ think _alike_.

Using my _wire_ trick on my _truck_?

_Very_ nice.

You hooked your little wires to the chassis. _Impressive_.

Now.

Let's see if you can _deliver_ on the _next_ act.

Where's my M76? Aha—

come on come on come on come on

out of the way, out of the way _out_

come on

come on

I want you to do it I want you to do it

_come_ on

_clear_ shot

come on

no _accidents_

_come_ on come on

only _choices_

I want you to do it I want you to do it come on hit me

hit me

_hit_ me

come on, hit me.

_HIT ME_

scream

HIT ME

_Hit me!_

_

* * *

_

HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA !

"DAaa!"

Kilson Kilson—no no no bright lights for _you_! No touching!

HA _HA HA HA_ !

Come on, come on

Step. Steel. Neck. Back.

HA _HA HA HA _!

"Could you _please_ just give me a _minute_?"

HA_ HA HA HA _!

Shoved back and wave a gun in my face.

Oh _look_.

HA_ HA HA HA _!

_Gordon_.

HA_ HA HA HA _!

"We got you, you son of a bitch."

Guess I've got to _drop_ the _knife_ now.

Well _gee_. I _surrender_. _Commissioner_.

HA_ HA HA HA _!

Harvey Harvey Harvey _Dent_

Two-face True-face White Knighted Screw-face

Has a _date_ with a pretty _upset_ girlfriend.

HA_ HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA _!


	13. Rat in a cage

Want to hear a funny song?

Here, I'll _hum_ it. You—_sing_ along.

-the world is a _vam_pire

_Sirens_ and _reporters_ and _cameras_ and _handcuffs_. Take my picture, _take_ my _image_.

The _message_ is in the _medium_.

You _like_ this, don't you—the _spectacle_ of _crime_.

And there's _no one_ like me to give you a _spectacular_ crime.

I'm not _done_ yet. By the time I'm _done_ with this town, _everyone_ will know my _name_. _Everyone_ will _laugh_.

-sent to drain…

"Mr. Dent, how does it feel to be the biggest _hero_ in Gotham?"

Can you see the _newspapers_ tomorrow? The _face_lines in _black_.

_Harvey_ Dent _saves_ Gotham, in _cahoots_ with _Caped_ Crusader to bring _justice_ and _order_.

Show's not _done_ yet, boys. Stay in your seats. You haven't seen the _encore_.

-secret destroyers

Hello, _officer_.

Want to know a _secret_ about Officer Smith?

Officer _Smith_ wants to _smash_ my face into the road.

Officer Smith wants to _beat_ me into a bloody _pulp_.

Officer Smith thinks a _sick bastard_ like me should be _sliced_ and _diced_ and put through a _meat grinder_.

And do you know _why_ Officer Smith wants to do this?

-hold you up to the _flames_

Because two of his _friends_ were _firefighters_.

The joke: Officer Smith—all he can do is cuff me and _try_ to _wrestle_ me into the van.

He'll _say_ he didn't do what he _wanted_ because he's _above_ me. _Better_ than me. Because he _believes_ in Gotham and Harvey _Dent_.

But if he had the _chance_—

If he had the _choice_—

-and what do I _get_

People—you don't _realize_ it's _all right_ to _admit_ you're a _monster_.

That deep down _inside_, you're _exactly_ like me. Maybe even _worse_.

Look in the _mirror._ _Reflect_ in my _words_. Whatever _face_ you present inside the _system_ is a _product_ of your _surroundings_.

-for my pain…

The _smile_ you paste in front of your _neighbor_ is a _mask_.

It's _normal_.

_Here's_ an idea—maybe the _smile_ is _necessary_. A necessary _evil_.

Because—what kind of _place_ would this be if we said what we _really_ meant? What kind of _crazy_ world would we _have_ if we did what we really _wanted?_

It wouldn't be _right_, would it. It wouldn't be _fair_. People _have_ to play by the _rules_ to get what they _want_.

Isn't that _right_.

Don't be _afraid_ to _admit_ it. Don't be _afraid_ to _laugh_.

-betrayed de_si_res

Sitting with these guys holding _guns_, wearing _goggles_, driving back to the MCU—they're _angry_.

They're _nervous_.

They want to _yell_.

They want to _rip_ the _smile_ off my _face_.

They want to _use_ all the _power_, the _guns_ and masking _goggles_, to _cross_ the _line_ and see what's under my _mask_.

They want to be _ugly_, but their _system_ won't _let_ them. That _confuses_ them.

-and a piece of _game_

Want to know something?

_They're_ the _mad_ dogs on a _leash_. They _bark_ at their own _reflection_.

_They're_ the people who'll _massacre_ a town in a fit of _rage_.

_They're_ orders, obedience, they search for _targets_, they look for _reasons_, and then try to _justify_ their actions with a _story_. With _calculation_.

Because the _system_ says _everyone_ has a _story_. That _justice_ is in _calculation_—settling _accounts_ and _paying_ for crimes.

-e-ven though I _know_

You're _panicking_, watching my _act_,because you think _humans_ are _moral_ creatures.

You think _violence_ is _abnormal_, that _killing_ is _psychotic_.

You turn a _blind eye_ to the _funny_ side and _pretend_ that the root of _evil_ is _insanity_.

It's _not_.

-I sup-pose I'll _show_

The root of _evil_ is _hypocrisy_.

You think you'll _never_ kill, but watch.

You think you'll _never_ steal, but watch.

You think you'll _never_ rape, but watch.

You think you're not the _kind_ of person to do _bad_ things, but _watch_.

You _are_.

It's not "I _think_, therefore I _am_."

_Thinking_ has nothing to do with _being_. Everything _eats_ to stay _alive_.

-all my cool and _cold_

It's "I _kill_, therefore I _am_."

_Face_ the _instincts_ inside you and _then_ say you _know_ what _justice_ is.

_Face_ your _reflection_, look me in the _eyes,_ and _then _tell me you don't _know_ me.

-like old JOB

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a cage

Stop _pretending_ and take _off_ your _mask_.

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a cage

Stop looking _away_ and _watch_ the _show_.

-_some_one will _say_ what is _lost_ can _never_ be saved

Things were _worse_ when the Mob controlled the city, but you didn't _care_.

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a _CAGE_

You didn't _care_ about their 8,700 murders—murders with _stories_, murders with _reasons_, murders for _money_—because they were _faceless_ and _nameless _and _you_ think that as long as _justice_ has a _price_ you can _pay_, there is _order_.

You think that justice _IS_ order and at the end of the day, you don't care _which_ order it _is_, as long as it's a _system_ and you know the _rules_.

I'm putting a _face_ on _every_ murder. I'm putting a _name_ to _every_ face. And _suddenly_, you're scared it might be _your_ face _smiling_, dead, on _television_. Suddenly, you're scared of what you're _capable_ of.

So you call me _insane_.

Because it's _easier_ to _look away_ and _laugh_ at the clown than _look_ into the _abyss_ that was _always_ inside you.

I'm getting rid of the _rules_ and putting in a _new_ order and _that's_ was _really_ frightens you. Not the _killings_. Not the _crimes_. But the _game_.

You're _scared_ that you don't know _how_ to _play_.

So you say I'm _unjust_ and cheer yourself up with _bad jokes_.

Look in the mirror and tell me my _name_:

_I'm_ the _only_ comedian in Gotham.

* * *

-now I'm _na_ked

_Hey_—you. _Officer_. Don't _manhandle_ my coat. It _wasn't_ cheap.

_Careful_ with the _knives_. It wasn't _easy _creating my _collection_. I'll want them _back_ later.

That's _right_. It's a _peeler_. For _skin_.

Like _apples_.

Searching me for _hidden_ weapons, _grabbing_ all the _usual_ places.

And aren't they _surprised_ when they find _nothing_. Aren't they _nervous_. _Twitchy_.

What did _think_ you'd find? Hm?

-nothing but an animal

_Jails_ and _bars_, _prisons_ and _scars_, leading me to a _holding_ cell while detectives and deputies _prowl_ to get a _good_ look at the _freak_.

What do you _see_?

You know—_prisons_ are interesting _systems_ on their own. Such a _strict_ division of _power_. Have you ever met a Gotham _warden?_

They _really_ like their _guns_.

-but can you _fake_ it

Take my prints—you don't have to _force_ my mouth open for dentals, _detective_—can you see your reflection? Can you see what you _want_?

No?

You're holding a Glock in my mouth. With your _finger_ on the trigger.

Maybe we can _play_ that _game_ some other day. I'll _remember_ you.

-for just _one_ more _show_

And here comes the _rat_, back from the _dead_.

"Stay out of the way! _All_ of you! I don't want _anything_ for his Mob lawyer to use, you understand?"

You know—he's _just_ like a rat. Hard to _kill_. Like a part of _Gotham_ itself.

And _Garcia_. _He_ wants to know how Gordon _resurrected_ himself. He wants to know the _trick_, see if it'll _buy_ him another _term_ in _office_.

-and what do you _want_

"Nothing."

Gordon speaks softly. Speaks _softly_ and carries a big _stick_—a _bat_.

"No matches on prints, DNA, dental."

Two rodents—one that _flies_ and one that _crawls_, all for _one_ and one for _all_: _Me_.

"Clothing is custom, no labels."

Gordon doesn't have _people_ because he's got a bigger _stick_. He's got _people_ because he's got the _Bat_ on a leash.

"Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint."

Mad dogs on a leash. A bat on a leash. _You_ tell me which one's _crazier_.

"No name."

I have a name.

"No other alias."

I _have_ a _name_.

-I want a _change_

"Go home, Gordon."

And watch your back, _Commissioner_.

"The clown'll keep till morning."

Of course I will. The question is—will _you_.

"Go get some rest."

Sweet dreams, _Commissioner_.

"You're going to need it."

_Insomnia's_ a real _problem_ in this town.

"Tomorrow you take the big job."

Punch line.

Is it still a _punch_ line if everyone _sees_ it _coming_?

"You don't have any say in the matter—"

-and what have you _got_

_Commissioner_ Commissioner _Commissioner_ Gordon.

"Commissioner Gordon!"

I should start telling _fortunes_.

Want to see your _future_ in _my_ cards?

Or maybe you like flipping _coins_. _Harvey_ likes flipping coins.

Or maybe you like making _choices_. _Batman_ likes making _choices_.

Amazing what a _flip_ can do to a _choice_.

-when you feel the _same_

Applause applause. I should _applaud_.

They think the show is _over_, but this is the _intermission_.

But you know—I found a _real_ keeper. Someone who's got a _lot_ of _potential_. Someone who could aggressively _expand_ his _routine_.

_Gordon_.

He puts on a _decent_ show. He's more _surprising_ than I _speculated_. That _back to life_ act—_funny_. Unexpected. _Creative_.

You see—people think _chaos_ is _easy_ to _create_. They think as long as you _blow up_ something _big_, _chaos_ will follow.

No. Order's _entrenched_ in _systems_. By _definition_. Circular logic: it's not a _system _if it's not _systematic_.

The only way to create _chaos_ is to _break_ the circle and keep _changing_ the game.

And that _needs_ creativity.

Gordon's got a _lot_ of potential. I _like_ creativity.

_Expansion_.

Maybe we should _start_ with a back to _death_ routine.

-e-ven though I _know_

Timing. Got to get the right _time_.

"Look at these ugly bastards."

Detective _Murphy_.

Irish. Angry. Wife and two _daughters_, likes _baseball_ and drinks at the _pub_. _Hates_ fatties. Wants to _force_-feed Kilson raw _sausages,_ then shoot his bloody _guts_.

"I don't feel good."

Kilson has _acid_ reflex.

"You're a cop killer. You're lucky to be feeling anything below the _neck_."

Hm. I axed a _Firefighter_ Murphy today. Wonder if they were _related_.

-I sup-pose I'll _show_

"Please!"

Don't _cry_ Kilson. Soon you'll see the _bright_ lights and _everything_ will be all _right_.

See—you're the _reset_ button. You're the _giant_ red toy they sell at that office _supply_ store.

You know—the _funny_ ones that tell you '_That_ was _easy_.'

"Step away from the bars!"

Is it time yet?

No. Just a—just a _little_ while longer.

-all my cool and _cold_

You see—I haven't been saying _anything_ since they brought me here.

I've been sitting and _watching_. Waiting.

For the _timing_.

You see—Gordon has no sense of _timing_. That's why his act was _good_, but not _brilliant_.

Should have _waited_ a little longer, _Commissioner_. Should have _practiced_ a little more.

The _Bat's_ sense of timing's getting _better_. But not there _yet_.

I'll have to show them how it's _really_ done.

-like old JOB

"I want my phone call."

Speak _softly_ and make them _lean_ to _listen_.

"I _want_ my phone call. I want my _lawyer_."

They're _sneering_ and _mocking_ and on_ edge_.

"I want _Harvey_. I _want_ to call _Harvey Dent_."

Shifty eyes, sweaty hands.

Laugh.

"Is he _home?_"

_Laugh_!

* * *

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a cage

See—this song is about _rats_ in _cages_. It repeats _over_ and _over_ like a never ending punchline.

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a cage

The _obvious_ question: who's the _rat_ and what's the _cage_.

_-some_one will _say_ what is _lost_ can _never_ be saved

Is it Gordon, surrounded by his _people_ and his little fortress, the _Major_ Crimes _Unit?_

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a _CAGE_

Or Garcia, with his _campaign_ to keep the _commissioner_ under his _thumb_, to _clean_ the streets in a city he doesn't _love_ and will _never_ understand.

Not like _I_ do. Not like _he_ does.

-_tell_ me I'm the _only_ one

-_tell_ me there's no _other_ one

-Joker was the _only_ son

-_tell_ me I'm the _chosen_ one

-Joker was the only _son_ for _you_

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a cage

Oh—_here's_ a _good_ one.

Maybe it's the _squeeze_, a little _bunny_ trapped between _two_ men with _four_ faces.

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a cage

Or the _Mob_, _squeezed_ between _four_ systems with _no_ faces. Or is it four _men_ with _sixteen_ faces?

_-some_one will _say_ what is _lost_ can _never_ be saved

You know—it's like watching _rats_ spinning in their _wheels_, all of them connected to a giant _machine_.

One _mob_ of rats spins _clock_wise, another _unit_ spins _counterclockwise_.

And it's so _boring_.

Maybe _Gotham's_ the rat and _we're_ her _cage_.

-despite all my rage, I am still just a _rat_ in a _CAGE_

Then there's the _Bat_, with his _rage_ and _mission_ and _dramatic_ story. Because every _freak_ has to have a _story_, am I _right?_

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a

Wuertz and Ramirez have _stories_. Wuertz and Ramirez have _reasons_ for being _squealers_.

Want to hear them?

Of _course_ you _don't_.

You'd _never_ do anything _bad_ to save your _mother_ or _granddaughter_.

You'd never _capitulate_, _never_ give in to the _demands_ of a _terrorist_ because you have _morals_. You have _principles_.

You'd _take one_ for the _team_ and let _mommy_ and sweet little _Caroline_ die. Slowly, quickly, makes no _difference_.

Because _you_—you _believe_ in Harvey _Dent_.

And _everything_ he _stands_ for.

What's a little _information_ cost? What's a little _car ride_? What a little _ignorance_?

You just _do_ as you're _told_ and it keeps mom and a brown-eyed four year old _alive_.

It makes your _conscience_ squirm, but you can _live_ with that.

You _decide_ you can _pay_ that _price_.

Because even though the _price_ is _personal_, the _payment_ isn't. The payment is _nameless_, _faceless_, _systematic_. Regular. _Orderly_.

And you can play _that_ game.

Well, _two_ can _play_ that _game_.

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a

Because—

Because maybe—

-despite all my rage, I am _still_ just a rat in a _cage_

Because maybe it's _me_.

Maybe _I'm_ the _rat_. The _cage_. The _rage_.

Maybe it's _all_ me.

-_tell_ me I'm the _only_ one

-_tell_ me there's no _other_ one

-Joker was the only _son_ for _you_

-and I still believe that I _can_not be saved

I _like_ this song.

-and I _still_ believe that I _can_not be saved

_Listen_.

_Really_ listen.

-and I still _believe_ that I _can_not be saved

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha

-and I still believe that I _can_not be _saved_

Punch line:

I'm not a monster because I know I _am_.


	14. Interrogation

They send in an _interrogator_.

The kind that plays _psychological_ tricks to wrangle _confessions_.

The kind that tries to find an _angle_. Tell a _story_. Read _body_ language and unconscious _ticks_ to find someone's _guilt_.

That game only _works_ if the suspect _denies_ they're _guilty_.

This one—Francis Quinzel—tries to _guess_ my _mind_.

I _laugh_ while she tells a _story_.

A story with _abusive_ fathers and _powerless_ mothers, about a _beautiful_ wife _leaving_ me because of my _scars_.

Dr. _Tinsel_ did her _research_. Conducted _interviews_. Asked _witnesses_.

She's really _obsessed_.

Interesting. But not interesting _enough._

I want the _Bat_.

* * *

"Evening, _Commissioner_."

Congratulations, _Commissioner_.

_Dramatic_ lighting. All dark with one lonesome lamp. _Yellow_ light.

More _games_.

I _like_ games. Let's _play_.

"Harvey Dent never made it home."

"Of course not."

Of _course_ not."

"What have you done with him?"

"Me?"

I _thought_ this was a _game_. Why so _serious_?

"I was right here."

I was _right_ here.

"Who did _you_ leave him with? _Your_ people?"

_Somewhere_ in the _looking_ glass, a squealer is _squirming_.

"Assuming, of course, they are _still_ your people, and not _Maroni's_."

Wet spaghetti.

I won't _tell_ on them. They _need_ me.

But _where_ is the _Bat_.

* * *

"Does it depress you, Commissioner, to know just how _alone_ you really are?"

Are you _staring_ at me because you _recognize_ my _face_?

"Does it make you feel _responsible_ for Harvey Dent's current _predicament_?"

You might _be_ a _rat_ but even rats _fear_ the _abyss_.

"Where is he?"

Tickity tock.

"What's the _time_?"

_Internal_ clock.

See—I already _know_.

"What difference does that make?"

You need a _little_ lesson in _timing_, _Commissioner_.

Everyone _learns_.

"Well, depending on the _time _"

Everything _burns_.

"He might be in _one_ spot "

_You_ might be laughing _hysterically_.

"Or _several_."

Or _blown_ away. _Applauding_.

* * *

Game time, game time. _Game_time!

Come on, Gordon. You've got _game_. Let's _play_.

I want the Bat I want the Bat I want the Bat Gotham _promised_ she'd give me the Bat.

She _promised_.

Come on, Gordon.

Let the _freaks_ out to _play_. Sit back and _watch_ the _professionals_. I _promise_ we'll give you a _spectacle_.

Come on.

I'm a man of my _word_.

"If we're going to play games—"

_Bingo_

"I'm going to need a cup of coffee."

Interesting. No more _handcuffs_.

Let's _guess_. What games do _cops_ like?

"The good cop/bad cop routine?"

"Not exactly."

_Lights_

Camera

* * *

_ACTION_

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha

Oh.

_You_.

_Well_.

Hi Bats.

Listen—I know you like me, but you _really_ need to stop doing that.

See—

"Never start with the _head_, the victim gets all _fuzzy_. He can't _feel_ the next—"

_Action_

"See?"

_Better_.

And _interesting_.

You're a _fast_ learner.

Gotham always _said_ you were.

Now _I_ get to _see_. For myself. _Experience_.

Sit down. Let's _talk_.

"You wanted me. Here I am."

When you put it _that_ way, Bats—you make it sound like _I've_ got your leash.

I'm not _Gotham_, Bats. _I'm _not the one who _made _you.

That's _not_ the _point_.

* * *

"I wanted to see what you'd _do_."

Action reaction, Bats. _That's_ what I _want_.

Not whoever you _think_ you are under that _mask_.

"And you didn't disappoint."

There's _room_ for _improvement_, but you never _disappoint_.

"You let five people die."

Here—I'll _name _them in case you _forgot_:

Brian _Douglas_, _Judge _Surillo, _Commissioner _Loeb, Patrick _Harvey_, _Richard_ Dent.

Almost Garcia, almost Gordon. _Commissioner_.

Don't take it _personally_. I never do.

The _citizens_ do. They're _confused_ whether you're a _psychopath_ or their personal _savior_.

You're _not_.

See—you weren't _there_ to see them _die_.

And _that's_ the point.

You _won't_ be.

* * *

"Then, you let _Dent_ take your place."

On _television_. What kind of _message_ does that _send_, Bats?

"Even to a guy like me, that's _cold_."

And _hilarious_.

"Where's Dent?"

Oh no. Not yet. Not the _time_. I've got _four_ more minutes.

You want to play twenty _questions_.

This might be Gordon's _territory_, but this is _my_ game.

We play by _my_ rules.

"Those _mob_ fools want you _gone_ so they can go back to the way things _were_."

_Boring_.

"But I know the truth."

And so do you. You just won't _admit_ it.

"You've changed things."

You've change _me_.

"Forever."

* * *

"Then why do you want to kill me?"

ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha

Bats—you know some _great_ one-liners.

"I don't want to _kill_ you!"

I _like_ you. Your _sense_ of _humor_.

You're not buying it.

Look, Bats—I _know_ how it _looks_, with the Brian video and blowing up your car. Maybe I'm a _little_ bit sorry about your car.

A little.

But you can _buy_ another one.

Of both. Cars _and_ Brians. They're a _dime_ a _dozen_—you _know_ that.

There's only _one_ you.

We're _made_ for each other.

I know how it _looks_, but Bats—you _know_ I'd never _kill_ you, right?

"What would I do _without_ you?"

_Seriously_. _What_ would I _do_ without you?

What would _you_ do without _me_?

Isn't that why you're _here_?

_Dent_? You're not _really_ here for _him_. Dent completes _himself_.

What're _you_ doing here, Bats?

Action reaction.

What do _you_ need?

Reaction action.

Why didn't you turn yourself in?

Why'd you let _Harvey_ take your place?

Why're you still wearing your _mask_?

You _know_ why.

You're _here._

_Gotham_.

What would _she_ do without _us_?

"Go back to ripping off Mob dealers? No."

_No_.

There's no going back.

You've _changed_ things.

You've _changed_ me.

For the _better_.

* * *

"No, you—"

_Yes_, you.

"You _complete_ me."

_I_ complete _you_.

Not _her_.

Not _Dent_.

Not _Gordon_.

And _never_ Bruce Wayne.

But _me_.

_Look_ at you, _looking_ at _me_.

_Look_ in my mask and see your _mirror_.

Don't be _afraid_, Bats.

The only way to _know_ yourself is to _stalk_ your _reflection_.

_Look_ at me, Bats.

Don't be _afraid_ to _laugh_.

Gotham—she _made_ us.

She _destined_ us.

There's no going back.

What're the _chances_ that a _system_ could create two—not _one_—but _two_ freaks like us?

Ask _Harvey_.

_He_ knows.

It's _all_ in the _flip_ of a _coin_.

* * *

"You're garbage who kills for money."

Money. _Money?_

No no no no no.

Bats.

Listen.

_Listen_.

"Don't talk like one of _them_, you're _not_."

You're not.

You _can't_.

_We're_ not.

"Even if you'd like to be."

You're not.

I _know_.

You're not.

You _can't_.

"To _them_, you're just a _freak_."

A _freak_.

Insane.

Listen—

_Monstrosity _and _evil_ are two _different_ things. Not the _same side_ of a _coin_.

Forget your _mission_ and their _order_, forget their _justice_ and your _crusade_.

_Listen_—

To them, you're just a freak.

"Like _me_."

Eyes _watching_.

_Listening_.

Smile, Bats.

I want to see you _smile_.

* * *

"They need you right now."

They _use_ you right now.

"But when they don't—"

You _know_ what _systems_ do to _outcasts_, Bats.

And if you don't—you _will_ know.

"They'll cast you out."

Like me.

"Like a leper."

Like a _freak_.

"See—they're morals."

They think humans are _moral_ creatures.

You _bend_ their morals and I _break_ them.

So _they_ think—we're not _human_.

We're more _human_ than they'll _ever_ be.

They're _not_.

"They're code."

They're _killing_ is _calculation_ and everyone has a _story_.

Everything has a _justification_.

Do you _realize_ how _twisted_ that is?

People will _rationalize_ _anything_.

* * *

"It's a bad joke."

The longest running _joke_ of all _time_.

Using _stories_ as _justification_.

Look at _wars_. _Genocides_.

All started for a _reason_.

When things go _wrong_—

"_Dropped_ at the first sign of trouble."

When they don't _like_ the _joke_.

When the _system_ changes and _they_ say _some_ stories are _wrong_.

When _they _decide_ some _justice isn't _funny_.

"They're only as _good_ as the world _allows_ them to be."

Humans are _monsters_ who create _systems_.

The system creates a _game_.

A _plan_.

An _order_.

But not _justice_.

Humans are _monsters_ who play by the system's _rules_.

It's that _simple_.

* * *

"They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you."

You'll _see_.

"When the chips are down "

All bets are _off_.

The game _begins_.

No _rules_.

"These _civilized_ people."

They _know_ how to _play_.

"They'll _eat_ each other."

Everything _eats_ to stay _alive_.

"See—I'm not a monster."

But _you_ are.

And—you aren't. When you have no _story_.

_I_ have no _story_. I have no _mask_.

I have no _mask_ that covers my _true_ face.

You wear a mask that reflects a _two_ face.

"I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve."

* * *

_ACTION_

ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha

"_Where's Dent_?"

Oops.

Looks like Bat's run out of _patience_.

Don't _like_ what you're _hearing_, _Batman_?

I hit a _nerve_. _Sore_ spot.

"You have all these _rules_ and you think they'll _save_ you."

You have all these _masks_ and you think they'll _protect_ you.

"I have _one_ rule."

Oh Batty boy—you've got _more_ than _one_ rule.

Even _I_ have _one_ rule.

The _zero_ rule.

But let's play along with _your_ little _game_.

Because

"_That's_ the rule you'll have to _break_ to know the _truth_."

"Which is?"

"The only sensible way to live in this world is _without_ rules and _tonight_ you're going to _break_ your _one rule_."

You're going to break _all_ your rules.

And _after_ the _storm_ and _fury_ are _you_ going to _know_ the _truth_.

Because after tonight, you'll _have_ no _backstory_.

"I'm considering it."

You're going to do _more_ than _consider_.

You're going to _play_ for _yourself,_ Bats. This isn't something anyone _else_ can _do_ for you.

This isn't something _money_ can fix. This isn't something _people_ can _understand_.

And in case you're only _considering_—

If you need a little _persuasion_—

Well—

"There's only minutes left so you're going to have to _play_ my little game if you want to _save_ one of _them_."

Expression shutters.

Voice softens.

Grip loosens.

Bats, you're just _eating_ out of my _hand_.

I can't _wait_ to _see_ when you _finally_ know the _truth_.

"Them?"

_Them_.

After tonight, you'll _know_ the _truth_:

Gotham's _played_ you. She _gave_ you to _me_ on a _silver platter_.

All I had to do was _ask_.

She _provided_.

_Showtime_.

"You know for a while there, I thought you really _were_ Dent. The way you _threw yourself_ after _her_."

_ACTION_

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha

The _punch_ line, the punch _line_!

Bats delivers the _punches_, I deliver the _lines_.

"Look at you _go_."

Look at you _play!_

See—take away your little _bunny_, your _hope_ for a _normal_ life and you have _nothing_ left but your _mask_.

"Does Harvey know about _you_ and his _little_ bunny?"

_ACTION_

HA _HA HA HA_

Take away your _faith_ that people _need_ you, take away your _cars_ and _toys_ and _manor_, and you're _nothing_ but a _shell_. A case of _expensive_ armor.

"_Where are they_!"

Keep going Bats.

You're _finally_ in the _game_.

And it's _hilarious_.

Take away your _story_ and that's when you _stop_. That's when you _forget_.

So play my game of _choices_, because you never _had_ a choice.

"_Killing_ is making a _choice_."

_Action_

HA _HA HA HA_

_Forget_ your _story_ and stop _being_ Batman. Stop _acting_ Batman.

"_WHERE are they!_"

Take away your _story_ and that's when you have _nothing_ left but _me_ and _Gotham_.

So _choose_.

"Choose between one life or the other."

Choose, because you _never _had a _choice_.

"Your friend the district attorney—"

"Or his _blushing_ bride to be!"

Choose, because you _complete_ me.

_Action_

HA _HA HA HA_

Take away _every rule_.

And you _become_ Batman.

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha

"You have _nothing_."

You have _nothing_

"_Nothing_ to threaten me with."

_Nothing_.

"_Nothing_ to do with all your _strength_."

_No one_, no _game_, no _choice_, no _order_.

"_Don't_ worry. I'm going to tell you where they are."

"_Both_ of them."

"And that's the _point_."

"You'll have to _choose_."

_Desperate_.

Let's start with—

"_He's_ at 250 52nd St."

Not what he wants not what he wants not what he wants so frantic for what he _wants_.

"And _she's_"

Dead no matter _what_ you _choose_.

"On Avenue X."

Marks the spot.

"At "

He's _frantic_.

He's _foaming_.

A _rabid_ bat to save a _blown up_ bunny.

"Cicero."

"_Rachel_!"

* * *

Hm.

So _that's_ her _name_.


	15. Phone call

Timing timing timing.

_Four_ minutes _talking_ with the _Bat_, _four_ minutes from the _MCU_ to _52nd_ St. _Four_ minutes from Avenue _X_ back to Gordon's _fort_.

_Plenty_ of time.

I want my _phone_ call.

* * *

Detective Gerard Stephens.

Walks with his shoulders _hunched_, but when he's standing guard—he's all _attention_. Keeps his hands to _himself_.

_Stephens_.

Another _Irish_ name. Like _Murphy_. Wife, daughter and son, likes beers and playing catch with his dog. Good friends with the _commissioner_ and the only man Gordon _trusts_ to keep the clown in the _box_.

I wonder how good he is at playing _games_.

* * *

"I want—"

He's all _attention_. Not looking. Hands to himself.

That's nice. I don't want _hands_. I want

"my phone call."

Look at me. _Look_ at me.

"I want it. I want it."

timing timing plenty of timing

"I want my phone call."

"That's nice."

Ha-HA! Broke his rule.

Rule number _one_—don't engage the _prisoner_.

They played interrogation. Now it's _my_ turn.

"How many of your friends have I _killed_?"

Shoulders _hunch_.

Too easy, too easy. Too _easy_ to play with the _Irish_.

"I'm a twenty year man"

_Story_time. They _always_ have a _story_ before they start _playing_.

* * *

Come out to play, come out to _play!_

"And I know the difference"

Twenty year man who _knows_ the _difference_ between _justice_ and _joking_.

"between punks who need a little lesson in manners"

Manners. Gambol liked manners. Stephens likes manners.

Blacks, MACs, whites, flaks, rules and cages, _manners_ and _stages_.

I set the _stage_ for a _comedy_ of _manners_.

"And the freaks like you"

To them, you're just a freak, like _me_.

"And the freaks like you who just enjoy it."

Punch line.

You _have_ a punch line, don't you?

"And you killed six of my friends."

Six.

_Six_.

"_Six_!"

* * *

Ha-HA! Broke another rule.

Rule number _two_—don't make it _personal_.

Stephens tells me his _story_—twenty years. Long story, full of _scars_.

I _have_ no story. It's not _personal_.

He broke the rules, and I like _broken_ rules. Let's make it _personal_.

"Do you want to know"

How I got these scars?

"Why I use a knife?"

It's my newest _joke_. I made it up—_improvised_.

"Guns are too quick."

I _like_ this joke.

"You can't savor all the _little_ emotions."

Not as _funny_, but I _like_ it.

The punch line: when have I ever _used_ a _knife_?

Hm?

* * *

No, I killed Gambol with a _twist_ and a _sleight_, not a _knife_.

Brian? Brian _flew_. I made him _smile_, but he died _flying_.

Surrillo, not my _best_ work. Gordon _almost_ with a _gun_. Loeb with a glass of Clyburn.

Dick and Patty killed each _other_. With a _knife_.

Firefighters with axes and _fire_.

Little G with a _pencil_.

Dent and Squeezy with _explosions_.

Kilson with a _phone_.

Stephens is next. Kill him with _glass_ if he doesn't give me my _phone call._

timing timing timing

I kill the Bat with _timing_.

But when have I ever used a _knife_?

* * *

"You see"

You see—a _joke_ is about _expectation_ and the _laughing_ curve.

Stephens thinks I'm a _freak_, he's seenmy _knives_, so he _believes_ what I say.

He doesn't _think_ about the fact that I'm a _clown_.

The joke's on _him_.

_Why_ do I have so many knives?

Wrong question.

That's like asking me _why_ I have a _plan_: why _not_ have a plan? The cage is _boring_ and Gotham likes her _entertainment_.

_You_ like your _entertainment_.

I'm a clown. I can _never_ have _too many_ knives.

Deliver the _punch_ line, _hit_ them with the next _joke_.

"You see"

* * *

"In their last moments, people show you who they _really_ are."

In their last moments, people show you the _funny_ side.

"So in a way, I know your friends_ better_ than you ever did."

Stephens is like Gambol—_serious._ No sense of _humor_. No _imagination_.

He doesn't like _clowns_. He thinks he _knows_ the punch line.

Jokes aren't _funny_ if you _know_ the punch line.

Stephens is a twenty year man.

He should _know_ the difference between a _joke_ and the _punch line_.

* * *

"Would you like to know which of them were cowards?"

Ha-HA! Broke his last rule.

Rule number _three_—don't take your _gloves_ off.

"I know you're going to enjoy this."

Going to. _Going_ to? I already _am_.

"I'm going to have to try and enjoy it even more."

Now we're _talking_.

* * *

It's all in the _hands_.

I need _one_ hand to hold the _glass_.

I need the _other_ to hold him _hostage_.

I'm taller, faster than the _twenty_ year man. But there's no _handcuffs_.

Stephens has _two_ hands. Only one neck, but still two hands.

Let's play a _game_.

I hold Stephens by _one_ arm and _one_ neck.

Leaving _one_ hand free.

You see—if Stephens was _smart_, he'd realize that he's got one hand.

One hand can do a lot of things. It can grab a gun and shoot it. Find a knife.

One little hand can _change_ the game.

* * *

But Stephens isn't on top of the _game_.

He _lets_ me _drag_ him through the MCU. He doesn't even _use_ his free hand—he's such a _captive_ audience.

Instead—he _yells_. While I have a _blade _at his throat.

Stephens isn't very _smart_.

The noise brings _cops_ out of their _offices_ and _none_ of them _think_. They all hold their little guns and _watch_ the show. They all _see_ what I _want_ them to see—a _magic_ trick.

I want a _phone call_, but let's find _Murphy_. See if another _Irishman_ can play the _game_.

Because—Murphy is Stephens' _friend_.

* * *

"Drop the weapon now!"

You'd think Gotham's _finest_ have never _seen_ a _hostage_ situation before.

"It's my own damn fault! Just shoot him!"

Twenty year man finally gets the _joke_. Still doesn't know the _punch line_.

Free, _unbroken_, full range of movement arm _and_ hand.

The game wouldn't be _fair_ if I broke his wrists.

Come on. _Change_ the game. _Play_.

"Let him go now!"

I want to see something _new_. I want to see something _spectacular_.

"Drop the weapon to the floor! Drop it now!"

_Irish_ don't know how to _play_. They go by the _script_.

It's so _boring_.

* * *

"Blah blah blah blah now! Blah blah blah!"

Stephens is _gurgling_. Gurgling, when he has a _free_ hand.

"What? Sorry?"

I can't _hear_ you over the _blah blah blah_ gurgling.

The clock is _ticking_.

Getting closer to the _timing_.

I _hate_ it when everything goes according to _plan_.

"What do you want?"

I just want one thing.

Take off your mask and play the _game._

_Play it!_

You see—this is why I need the _Bat_. He _changes_ my game.

The game is so _boring_ without _anarchy_. Stephens isn't _funny_ enough to make _chaos_.

"I just want my phone call."

* * *

I'll make it _more_ interesting.

I need _one_ hand to hold the _glass_.

I need the _other_ to make a _phone call_.

Stephens has _two_ free arms now.

_Last_ chance before I _rewrite_ the _rules_.

_Last_ minutes before _Rachel_ sees her _endgame_.

_Last_ joke before the next _act_.

Last _moment_.

Any last _words_?

No?

* * *

I _told _you.

I have a plan.


	16. Gotham

I have a story—listen:

Once upon a time there was a little _girl_ named _Gotham_.

She was a sweet, _innocent_ girl who grew up in the _slums_, right in the Narrows. She was an _orphan_ living with _thieves_ and _prostitutes_. There was _disease_. There was dynamite! Malaria and _typhoid_, yellow _stink_ of cities in the _water_. Her parents—_disappeared_—and her _uncle_ took her in. _Kept_ her. Petted her pretty _black_ hair.

See—little _Gotham_ should've _stayed_ on the streets like a good little _child prostitute_, but there were _two_ things Gotham had that the other little girls _didn't_:

* * *

She was _beautiful_.

And she had a _beautiful_ smile.

Gotham was _smart_, _crooked_ like a _businessman_. She grew up with the thieves and prostitutes who _stole_, killed, _bribed_, blackmailed—she learned from the _best_.

But Gotham didn't become _Gotham_, the _woman_, the magnificent metropolis_,_ because she spread her _legs_ and _took it_ like a _whore_.

She was _special_ because she knew _timing_.

And it was Gotham's _time_.

See—little Gotham's _best_ customer was an _enterprising_, all _American_ entrepreneur named William D. _Wayne_.

* * *

Mr. William D. _Wayne_ was very _ambitious_. It runs in the family—little Bruce comes from a long _tradition_. Mr. William D. Wayne loved _railroads_. He loved _steel_. He loved _oil refineries_, _ports_, and _newspapers_. He was a man of _simple _tastes. He built an empire of _industry_, and _Gotham _his queen. He bought her _silks_. Sparkling jeweled _skyscrapers_.

Where the _industry_ lives, _labor_ follows.

Labor means people. People—immigrants. Blacks, Italians, Micks, red-faced Polacks. Labor means _crime_.

Put enough people in one place, cram them into the tenements above the beautiful _filth_ of Gotham and there will be _crime_.

* * *

It started small, like it always _does_. It started with _thieves_, and _prostitutes_, and _drinking_, and _gambling_. Murders. It grew to something bigger, and _organized_.

Mr. William D. Wayne was the _biggest_ organizer of them all—his little mob _invented_ Tammany Hall. They made the _rules_. They _organized_ police. They _elected_ mayors. Set up _courts_—for the _stories_.

Here's a little riddle: the police don't protect _people_, they protect _property_. They're sworn to protect _Gotham_, and Mr. Wayne's _property_.

Because you see—it works like _this_:

You want to do _business_ in _Gotham_? You have to do business with _Wayne_.

* * *

The _Gilded_ Age—that's right!

And the Great _Depression_—the Waynes didn't _sell_ while everyone panicked. They _bought_. They were wartime _profiteers_. Heavy industry, multimillion dollars in _defense_ contracts.

_Lao_ the _accountant_ thinks he's good at _calculation_—the _squealer's_ out of his _league_. Wayne _invented_ the game while Lao's _ancestors_ were hooked on _opium_. _Hong Kong_'s no _Gotham_. It can never be _half_ Gotham. What did I say about the _Chinese_—everything's a _ripoff_.

Gotham _grew_. She bred _senators_ and _Mafia_ bosses, _presidents_ and _pimps_. She raked in _capital_ and _corpses_.

This city—nothing's _clean_. Money here is _blood_ money.

* * *

Because Mr. William D. Wayne, _enterprising_ American _entrepreneur_, was _ambitious_. He was _greedy_. He wanted the _best_ of _both_ worlds—the _profit_ margins of _prostitutes_ and the _prestige_ of _princes_. He built _law_ and _crime_ into Gotham's marrows. This town needs one with the other: the more _justice_ you crank out of the courts, the more _madness_ spills into the streets.

_See_?

'Despite all my _rage _I am still just a _rat_ in a _cage_.

'Despite all his _change_ he is still just a _bat_ in the _strange_.

'Despite all her _craze_ she is always a _slag_ with a _lay_!'

* * *

Bat's a_ natural_ consequence of Gotham's _two-face_. He's _destined_.

We. Are. _Destined_.

I got these _scars_ because Gotham _gave them_ to me.

I got these scars because _Gotham_ gave them to _me_.

The more _justice_ they cook in courts the more _madness_ bubbles in streets. This is a _law_. The citizens of Gotham follow her _laws_.

_Harvey_ Dent is a citizen of Gotham. Harvey _Dent_ is Gotham's _White_ Knight. _Harvey Dent's_ been _spewing_ justice at the courts—let's see him _shank_ madness for his _sweet_.

I am a son of Gotham. _Wayne_ is a son of Gotham.

We. Are. _Destined_.

* * *

I _am_ because I _math_ and this city _deserves_ a better class of _criminal_.

I _am_ because I'm _made_ and this city _demands_ a better disease _subliminal_.

Tell me the _punch_ line:

_Harvey_ wants _justice_ for his _sweet_.

The Mob wants _money_ on the _beat_.

_Gordon_ doesn't believe in _laws_—he _fights_ the _good_ fight with _faith_ in _gilded_ foundations.

Businesses, banks—they want to _leave_. They feel _unsafe_. They _forgot_ that the police protect _property_ and the only property in Gotham is _Wayne_.

Twenty-two years ago, _Thomas_ and _Martha_ were shot. Instead of _leaving_ Wayne's city, they _revived_ it.

* * *

Because business in Gotham is business with _Wayne_. Once you're in you can't get _out_, burning capital for Wayne _markets_, Wayne _finance_, Wayne _Enterprises_. All money here is _blood_ money—no other place in the world multiplies the _penury_ of the _penniless_ into the _premiums_ of _potentates_.

Bruce _Wayne_ wants to _save_ his family's _city_ from the _scum_ who make it what it _is_. Bruce _Wayne_ wants to _cleanse_ Gotham, _purge_ it with a dark sword of _justice_, _right,_ and _law_. Bruce _Wayne_ wants to rewrite _law_—he wants the good _citizens_ to join hands and _take back_ their _city_.

* * *

Bruce _Wayne_ forgot that he's the son of _Gotham_. He burned down his _mansion_ with the family _records_ and the family _secrets_ and became a _prodigal_.

He _lost_ his _backstory_.

He wants to _save_ Gotham—

He never _asks_—was there _ever_ a _soul_ of Gotham to save?

So—tell me the punch line.

_Tell_ me the _punch_ line!

* * *

Don't know it?

Don't know the punch line?

What's the joke? Tell me the joke first.

Nothing?

Why do I always have to give away answers—tell you what.

Next time, you tell me a joke _and_ the punch line, or I'll _light you on fire_ and watch you _burn_.

Got it?

The joke is—

I don't _want_ make-up, mirrors, or reasons to do _mathematics_.

Think like _me_.

Think about _timing_.

The _real_ trick is in the _hands_.

I _told_ you—I laid it out in front of your _eyes_. I have a plan.

I _told_ you—

I

want

_half_

* * *

This is _my_ town, and we play by _my_ rules.

This is _my_ half.

Starting tonight—_everything_ burns.

I'm a man of my word.

ha ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA _HA HA HA HA HA_ HA Ha Ha Ha ha ha!


	17. Half

I want _half_.

It's about sending a _message_.

Say it: the _message_ is in the _medium_. I'm sending a message.

_Half_ the cash _burns_.

Not _just_ to the Mob. To _everyone_.

Half the cash _burns_.

I'm a man of _simple_ tastes. Mr. William D. Wayne liked _steel_ and _oil_ and _newspapers_. Mr. Bruce '_B_' Wayne likes _armor_ and caped _crusades_. I can do _better_ than that.

I like _dynamite_, _gun_powder and _gasoline_. I like _television_. I like Mike _Engels_.

I like _squealers_. I like _clowns_. I like _school_ buses and _shot_guns.

_Burns_. Half.

This is _my_ town.

I _want_ half.

* * *

They never asked half of _what_.

They _never_ asked _half_… of _what_?

It wasn't _hard_ to find little Lao's _secure_, _un_disclosed location. It's not hard to make _squealers_ squeal.

Lao the _accountant_ tries to _play_ the _game_—he _begs_. He _cries_.

He'll give me _all_ the money if I let him go _back_ to _China_.

He'll give me _more_ money when he _gets_ back to China.

He'll secure my _investments_ because he's good at _calculation_.

Lao's great-_grandfathers_ were _doped_ with opium while Europeans _carved_ China. Mr. William D. Wayne knows _better_.

I don't want _half_ the _money_.

I _want_ HALF.

* * *

If you're good at something, _never_ do it for _free_.

Chechens, Sicilians—sheep and _spaghetti_.

_This_ is what I call a _hostile_ takeover. This is what I call _paradise_.

Tell your men they work for me now. This is _my_ town.

They won't work for a _freak_.

A _freak._

They'll work for _half_. They'll work for _my_ message. It's not about money! It's about _sending_ a _message_.

Tell your men they work for _me_ now. Tell the _world_ to watch the _show_. Bring the _National Guard_ and we'll _see_ how _loyal_ a hungry _dog_ really IS!

This is _my_ town!

* * *

I

WANT

HALF

They won't work for a _freak_—I don't _need_ freaks!

I don't _need_ money and your little _dogs_, I don't _need_ banks and _accountants_! That's the _beauty_.

You see—I _organized_ this show. I _performed_ it. It cost _nothing_, and look at the chaos! All it took was a _plan_ and some _timing_ to bring Gotham to her _knees_. All it took was a _little_ crime to destroy Mr. William D. Wayne.

The only thing I _need_ is an audience—the sound of _laughter_. The only person I need is the _Bat_.

All I want is _half_.

* * *

Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches! And then we'll _see_ how _loyal_ a hungry _dog_ really _is_!

_FACE_ the _fact_—half of you are monsters and the other half _terrified_—half stares out from the _mirror_ and half wears a _mask_—half of you _squeal_ and the other half _scream_—half Gotham's _murder_ and the other half _math—_

Half your face is _skin_ and the other half _skein_—half your face _frowns _and the other half's _maimed_—half of you are _frauds _and the other half _fiends_ —and I

WANT

_HALF_!

* * *

I had a _dream_.

I had a _premonition_.

I had a _vision_.

I had a _vision_ of a world _without_ Batman. The Mob ground out a _little_ profit and the police tried to shut them down, one block at a time.

I had a _dream_—a _premonition_.

And it was so _boring_.

I've had a _change_ of _heart_.

I've seen the _light_. I've converted to the _terrific_ arms of the _Savior_. I'm born again—_baptized_ in the holy waters of _Gotham_.

I want to _share_.

We don't want Mr. _Reese_ spoiling everything but why should _I_ have all the _fun_!

* * *

I had a _dream_, a _premonition_. I had a _vision_ of a _better_ world, a _safer_ place—a _democratic_, all-American, _entrepreneurial_ city.

So let's give someone else a chance!

If Coleman Reese isn't _dead_ in sixty minutes—then I blow up a hospital.

Fair's fair.

If Coleman Reese _is_ dead in sixty minutes—then I _blow up_ a hospital.

If Coleman Reese isn't _alive_ in sixty minutes—then _I_ blow up a _hospital_.

If Coleman Reese _is_ alive in sixty minutes—then I BLOW UP A HOSPITAL!

Fair's _fair_.

Everything burns. _Everything_ burns.

* * *

It doesn't _matter_ what _you_ choose—_he'll_ choose Coleman Reese and won't even _think_ about the _hospital_.

Which is a _shame_ because—

Harvey _Dent_'s there.

Let's _visit_.


End file.
